The Last Dancer
**Warning: This isn’t your typical cultivation story. If you're looking for a formulaic journey of power, turn back. This is for those who want their cultivation with teeth, grief, and gods that scream.**
The Red Moon looms, its light bleeding across the ruins of a dead world. No voices remain, no echoes of the past, only the wind whispering through hollowed stone. Yet one figure still moves, tracing unseen steps beneath the crimson glow.
The boy does not know how long he has wandered, nor why he alone remains. He remembers hunger, the weight of a knife at his hip, and the distant pull of something just beyond memory, a path he must walk, a dance he must complete. But the steps evade him, like a melody half-forgotten.
There are things lurking in the dark, creatures that should not exist, bound to the moon's eerie cycle.
Somewhere, beneath the veil of time, the truth is buried.
Somewhere, within the forgotten rhythm of his own steps, the answer awaits.
And when the dance begins again, it will either set him free or consume him entirely.
