My name is Aditya, a 32-year-old veterinary doctor in Yunnan. My life has been like a still pond—neither exciting nor tragic, just endlessly repetitive.
But there was a time when my days roared like a river in monsoon, wild and untamed.
Back in college, life was a celebration of excess. Every night felt like a grand festival.
Drinks flowed endlessly, like the golden hues of a summer harvest, and the air was filled with music, laughter, And women... oh, there were women—soft giggles, playful touches, and lips tasting like sweet wine. Not one, but many.
Coming from a wealthy family, money was never an issue. Parties lasted until dawn, and I was the undisputed prince of indulgence.
After college, I opened my veterinary clinic. It wasn't a glamorous venture, but it was steady. Clients trusted me; my hands were steady, my reputation spotless.
But over time, the world around me had grown dull. Once bursting with color, my life had settled into the monotonous shades of routine.
The laughter and chaos of wild parties had vanished, replaced by quiet nights and cold mornings.
Relationships? They came and went, like waves kissing the shore only to pull away again. Each left me colder, more indifferent, and less willing to try.
"Love," I often told myself, "is like chasing a shadow. The closer you get, the more it slips away."
But let's not confuse things—I wasn't a monk meditating in isolation. I enjoyed sex. Oh, did I.
Friends with benefits. My personal sweet spot. A modern arrangement: pleasure without the messy strings of emotions.
They indulged in the luxuries I provided—extravagant feasts, soft silks, and gifts. In return, I enjoyed their body. No strings, no expectations—just a mutually beneficial arrangement.
At least, that's how life carried on—until last night.
When I opened my eyes this morning, something felt... off. I wasn't in the comfort of my modern, minimalist bedroom. No soft, plush mattress or the quiet hum of city life.
Instead, the bed I found myself on was hard, made of old, weathered wood. It creaked under even the slightest of movements, like it hadn't been touched in centuries. The design looked ancient—more fitting for a medieval tale than my usual surroundings.
I sat up and glanced around. The room around me looked like it belonged in a historical drama: stone walls rough with age, flickering candlelight casting uneven shadows, and the faint smell of herbs that tickled my nose.
"What the hell?" I muttered, rubbing my temples.
Had I been kidnapped? Drugged? Or maybe some rich lunatic thought it'd be hilarious to toss me into a medieval cosplay set?
No way. Who's got that much time?
Before I could process further, the heavy wooden door at the far end of the room creaked open.
Crack!
A girl entered the room. No, not just any girl—a vision of beauty. Her face, smooth and delicate, resembled the porcelain of a finely crafted doll.
Her large eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the dim light in the room. Her lips quivered, as if holding back a torrent of feelings.
And then there was her figure—impossible curves that seemed too perfect to be real. She wore a maid's outfit, the fabric clinging to her body like a second skin, tracing the contours of her form. The outfit accentuated her every curve, making her look both innocent and irresistible at once.
Her boobs... well, let's just say the absence of modern-day bra left very little to the imagination. With every step she took, there was a soft, mesmerizing bounce that caught the eye and held it captive.
"Waaahh! Young master!"
Her voice was filled with panic as she rushed toward me, her tears flowing like a waterfall, spilling down her soft cheeks. I barely had time to react before she threw herself into my arms, her hands wrapping tightly around my neck.
Her boobs pressed against me, and my brain short-circuited. It was a softness beyond description—a mix of warmth and silk that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Y-young master… I thought you were dead!"
Her sobs grew louder as she buried her tear-streaked face into my shoulder. I could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through my shirt, but strangely, I couldn't focus on that. All I could think about was the softness of her body pressed so close to mine.
"Okay, okay," I said awkwardly, trying to pry her off gently. "Cry all you want, but don't rub your nose on my shirt!"
Her big, tearful eyes looked up at me, her lips trembling. "I was so scared! You didn't wake up for two days!"
Two days? What the hell was she talking about? I hadn't felt anything unusual. Was I… was I unconscious?
Before I could demand answers, she clutched my hand, guiding it to her cheek.
"Young master, please don't leave us again!"
I swallowed hard, my mind racing with confusion. I couldn't understand the situation, but the sincerity in her tone made something in my chest tighten. I tried to move, to break free from the hold she had on me, but it was like her grip had somehow deepened, her arms almost like chains that refused to let go.
This wasn't a prank. This wasn't cosplay. And if this was a dream, it was far too vivid.
"Do you know how much trouble you've caused us, young master?" she said with a pout. Her lips curled into a smirk as her eyes scanned me from head to toe.
Trouble? Me? I was the one kidnapped, damn it!
"What the hell is going on here?" I finally snapped, trying to push myself up, but the girl clinging to me refused to let go.
"Where am I?" I finally asked, my voice shaky and uncertain.
"Waaaah! Young Master, did you turn into an idiot?" she gasped, her large almond-shaped eyes shimmering like twin lakes under a morning mist.
Suddenly, without warning, she leaned in closer, her delicate fingers brushing through my hair as she examined my head with the care of an archaeologist handling a priceless artifact.
"I'm fine, alright? Just calm down first." I reached out, guiding her to sit next to me on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and the faint rustle of her silky garments against my skin set my thoughts spiraling.
Not that I minded her being so close—far from it. But now was not the time to let my imagination get carried away, no matter how intoxicating the view before me was.
"So, where am I? And why are you calling me young master?" I asked, trying to focus despite the alluring curve of her lips and the tantalizing way her robe clung to her figure.
A small part of me didn't care much for the answers. If she wanted to call me her young master, I certainly wouldn't complain. But curiosity tugged at me, keeping my attention anchored to her words.
Had my wealthy parents gone mad and whisked me away to some medieval-themed mansion complete with gorgeous maids?
"Did you lose your memory, Young Master?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry, her brows knitting together in a cute way.
If we weren't having this strange conversation, I might've let my hands wander...
I cleared my throat, trying to keep my composure. "Mmm," I nodded, pretending to be calm.
"Is it because you got mauled by that bull beast?" she asked innocently, her words made my jaw drop at the absurdity of what she had just said.
"What?! Mauled by a bull?!" I shouted, sitting up so fast the room spun for a moment.
My mind raced. One moment, I had been in my room, lying comfortably on my bed, drifting into sleep. The next, I am in this strange room while gotten mauled by a bull.
"Yes, Young Master. You don't even remember that?" she asked, tilting her head with a hint of disbelief..
"Mmm," I muttered, trying to piece together the absurdity of her words.
After an awkward moment of silence, she began to explain everything with a tone that mixed pity and frustration:
I am Aditya Rosani. The so-called good-for-nothing young master of the Rosani family from Felloro City, one of the central hubs in the Divine Tiger Empire.
To the world, I am nothing more than a disgrace, a young man with the title but none of the skill or power to back it up.
The world I find myself in is the Holy Beast Realm, a land of cultivation. But this is no ordinary cultivation world.
Here, strength isn't measured by qi alone, but by one's ability to tame beasts.
In this realm, a cultivator must first bond with a beast, imprinting its spirit into their qi center.
This is the first step of cultivation, and it's more than just a contract; it's a fusion of souls—a balance of power and submission that allows the cultivator to grow stronger.
Only those who succeed in this bonding can hope to ascend the ladder of cultivation.
For most, the process begins early. By the age of twelve, most cultivators have tamed their first beast, a simple rite of passage.
But me? At sixteen, I still can't even tame a common Level F spirit rabbit, despite all the resources my family—the prestigious Rosani family—has at its disposal.