The original owner of this body really outdid himself—picking a fight with some arrogant playboy young master and getting himself nearly killed while trying to tame a beast.
A double whammy of stupidity. Honestly, I'm at a loss for words.
"So, let me get this straight. I have to spar with this Kiro guy, who's a Spirit Beast Whisperer Cultivator, while I can't even tame a dog, let alone a beast? Am I right?" I asked, barely holding back my frustration.
"Finally, you're catching on!" Meiyara said with a grin that was equal parts smug and exasperated.
"Do you even understand how royally fucked you are right now?" Her words cut like a blade, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to hate her for it.
Maybe it was because of those lips, full and slightly upturned at the corners, or the way her figure seemed to defy gravity.
My gaze inadvertently dipped, tracing the curves of her body that her tight robes failed to conceal. Her waist was a narrow bridge to the kind of hips that could make the kings wage war for it.
I could almost hear a heavenly choir singing in my head.
She noticed, of course. How could she not? "So, Young Master," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence, "what's your big plan now?"
Her lips quirked into a teasing smirk, and for a moment, I couldn't decide whether to answer her or just keep staring at the way her mouth moved.
"What are we going to do?" I replied, my eyes lingering on the way her lower lip glistened in the dim light. That lip could inspire poetry—or very impure thoughts.
"Not we, Young Master," she shot back, her sharp tone slicing through my fantasies like a blade. "This is your mess to clean up."
Her words were like a splash of cold water. Right. Focus. "What to do, what to do...." I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
"Tame a beast, improve my cultivation, and all within three months. No big deal, right?"
Sigh! Meiyara sighed dramatically, her chest rising and falling in a way that was definitely not helping my focus.
"You'd better get started then," she said, crossing her arms under her ample bosom—a move I was certain was calculated.
Yeah, this was going to be a long three months.
—
The library of Rosani Mansion stood like an ancient temple of knowledge, its towering oak doors carved with intricate depictions of mythical beasts, their fierce visages caught in eternal battle.
The golden glow of the setting sun cast long shadows across the marble courtyard, giving the place an aura of both majesty and mystery.
After hours of wandering through this unfamiliar world, I finally decided to explore the mansion's famed library.
Rumors whispered of rare beast-taming techniques and profound cultivation methods hidden within its vast shelves.
Though I'd been tossed into this trash heap of a body, the original owner's memories were frustratingly absent. Beast taming? I didn't even know where to start.
As a veterinarian in my previous life, I could handle a barking dog or calm a meowing cat, but I was damn sure that wouldn't cut it here.
No way soothing words and a gentle pat would work on a fiery Hellhound or a Lightning Tiger. Better to learn the basics before I accidentally tamed myself into an early grave.
Just as I approached the towering doors, a sharp voice barked, "Stop!"
A guard stepped forward, his frame blocking the entrance. He was built like a small mountain, his bulging muscles barely contained by the black and silver armor he wore.
His face was as unyielding as stone, a square jawline set in a permanent scowl. A glint of disdain sparkled in his eyes as he looked me up and down, as if weighing my worth and finding me lacking.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked, barely keeping my irritation in check. "I'm the heir of this family."
His lips twitched, almost curving into a smirk. "Mmm, I know. So what?"
So what?! The nerve of this guy. Heat flared in my chest as I clenched my fists. Not even a shred of respect for the so-called young master of this damn mansion.
This man wasn't just blocking my path; he was grinding my dignity under his boot. And for what? Some cheap thrill?
"If you know, then why the hell did you stop me?" My voice rose, my brows arching as if daring him to answer.
Do I look like a country bumpkin? I'd been a second-generation rich kid in my past life, and my family's mansion could make this place look like a cheap roadside inn. Did this overgrown thug seriously think I couldn't handle him?
He remained silent, his face a picture of lazy defiance. My temper snapped like a brittle twig. "Hey, you fucker! Do you want to die?"
The library guard smirked, his lips curling with a mix of disdain and amusement. His gaze raked over me like I was some helpless fool. This smug bastard! My fists clenched at my sides, itching to wipe that smirk off his face.
And isn't this the perfect moment for the real culprit to make their grand entrance?
"Oh my, such harsh words from a young master," a silken voice teased from behind me, smooth as honey but sharp enough to cut.
Aah! Here it comes! I turned, ready to spit venom—but then I froze. What. The. Actual. Hell.
There she was, and damn it, this world was determined to drive me insane. Another beauty that seemed plucked straight from a divine painting.
Her presence alone made the dimly lit library feel alive, like the shadows danced just to frame her figure.
She had curves that defied reason—her boobs full and tempting, the kind that could make a monk lose his vows. Her hips swayed as she walked, an unspoken invitation in every step.
That ass… by all the heavens, it jutted out like a sacred mountain begging to be worshipped. I could already imagine resting my head on it, like it was the softest pillow crafted by the gods themselves.
Her outfit didn't help either. The tight silk hugged her body so closely it seemed sinful, the fabric shimmering faintly under the lantern light.
Her deep neckline revealed just enough to leave me parched, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with every breath like they had a rhythm of their own.
Gulp!
I gulped, my throat dry.
Snap out of it, idiot!
I shook my head, trying to clear the haze of lust clouding my thoughts. What the hell was wrong with me? Had it really been that long since I had sex? My body felt like a coiled spring, every nerve screaming for release.
Damn it, it was just like when I saw Meiyara. She had me wrapped around her finger, but I knew better than to make a move on her—unless I wanted to end up skinned alive and hanging as a warning.
Still, my eyes betrayed me. They roamed over the new woman's figure again, drinking her in like a man lost in the desert stumbling upon an oasis.
"Young master," she said again, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of mockery and challenge, as though she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on me.
Her voice was playful, but there was a sharpness to it, like a cat toying with its prey.
Her confidence only made her more alluring, and my fists clenched tighter—not out of anger, but to stop myself from doing something reckless.
"What do you want?" I growled, forcing my gaze up to meet her eyes.
But damn it, those eyes were just as dangerous. Large and almond-shaped, they held a glint of wicked amusement. They seemed to peer straight into my soul, stripping me bare and leaving me vulnerable.
The guard snickered beside me, but I barely registered it. My focus was entirely on the enchantress in front of me, her scent—a mix of jasmine and something earthy—wafting through the air and invading my senses.
I cursed inwardly. This wasn't just attraction. This was torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.
And she knew it.
She tilted her head, her long, glossy hair cascading over one shoulder like a silken waterfall. That teasing smile never left her lips.
"I came to see what all the commotion was about," she purred, her voice a seductive melody that made my skin prickle.
Commotion? Damn right there was commotion—I totally forgot that. Every inch of her screamed temptation, and I was doing everything I could to keep my thoughts from spiraling into dangerous territory.
She stepped closer, her hips swaying with an unnatural grace, each movement deliberate. The soft fabric of her dress clung to her body as though it were afraid to let go.
My breath hitched when I noticed the slit running up her thigh—how had I missed that before? The smooth, creamy skin beneath was like polished jade, drawing my eyes lower before I forced them back up.