The Last Cultivator in the Apocalypse

## The Last Cultivator of the Apocalypse > Nuclear winter has shrouded Earth for thirty years, and I am the last cultivator. > Every day, as I meditate and breathe in spiritual energy, radioactive dust scorches my meridians. > Then a group of survivors, pursued by a pack of mutant beasts, stumbles upon the ruins where I am in seclusion. > “Please, immortal, save us!” they cry, bowing frantically in my direction. > I was going to watch coldly from the sidelines, until I heard a child cry, “Mom, I'm scared!” > The rust-covered bronze sword flies from my sleeve, and the beasts instantly turn into a cloud of blood mist. > The survivors tremble and fall to their knees. “The gods have answered our prayers!” > I recall my bloodstained flying sword, my fingertips quivering slightly. > “What gods or Buddhas are left in this world?”