Jiang He’s final memory from his old life isn’t dramatic or meaningful. It’s boring to the point of irritation—lukewarm coffee, a desk lamp that flickered when it shouldn’t, and textbooks spread everywhere as he forced himself through another night of civil engineering revision. When he opens his eyes again, that world is gone. What replaces it is the sound of water nearby, wet soil pressing against his palms, and pain—sharp, unfamiliar, and far too real to ignore. The river beside him isn’t part of a dream. The wounds aren’t imaginary. And the face staring back at him from the water doesn’t belong to the man he remembers being.
It doesn’t take much time for denial to fade. No one is coming to wake him up. He hasn’t been rescued. This isn’t a hallucination brought on by exhaustion. Jiang He has crossed into another world, whether he likes it or not.
This place operates on rules completely different from Earth. Strength here has nothing to do with engineering formulas or machines. Everything revolves around beasts. Familiars—creatures born with elemental traits and instincts—form the foundation of society. Humans advance by forming contracts with them, borrowing their power, growing alongside them. Those who succeed earn a single title: Beastmaster.
That system didn’t appear overnight. More than four hundred years ago, humanity stumbled upon what later became known as the “New World.” Ancient ruins, broken scripts, and long-dead civilizations left behind clues. Slowly, people learned how to use Books of Contracts to bind magical beasts. With resources that defied logic and countless unknown worlds waiting beyond exploration routes, the Great Voyage began. Beastmasters rose to prominence, and history bent around their names.
Jiang He, unfortunately, enters this story at the lowest possible point.
The body he’s taken over belonged to a teenage reserve beastmaster with every advantage—and none of the patience to use them properly. The original owner was arrogant and desperate to prove himself. Instead of accepting the safe hybrid familiar arranged by his family, he ran headfirst into Rose Forest, chasing the idea of a purebred Windstorm Wolf cub. He did have talent. A rare support-type ability called Acting, which allowed him to imitate beasts through sound and behavior. But talent couldn’t make up for poor judgment. One wrong howl—using a mating call instead of a territorial warning—was enough to alert an entire wolf pack. Panic followed. Then exhaustion. Then the river.
That’s where Jiang He woke up.
Now stranded in a valley with sheer cliffs, no tools, and injuries that would send most people into despair, Jiang He responds differently than his predecessor ever did. Fear doesn’t disappear, but it doesn’t control him either. Survival comes first. He starts experimenting with Acting in ways the previous owner never bothered to try, mimicking fish movements to ambush carp in shallow water. It’s awkward. Sometimes it outright fails. Still, hunger has a way of forcing progress. He manages fire. Then shelter. Bit by bit, he secures something resembling safety in a place that offers none freely.
Summoning his Book of Contracts brings more confusion than comfort. It should be bronze, like any trainee’s. Instead, it’s pitch black, wrapped in drifting mist that refuses to settle. Stranger still, the book doesn’t focus on potential familiars—it records Jiang He himself. Acting is listed, as expected. But there’s something new beside it: Intuition, an ability that lets him sense and empathize with beasts on a deeper level. Then there’s the final entry. Pleasure Points. A stat that doesn’t respond to his emotions at all.
Understanding doesn’t come immediately.
While searching the valley, Jiang He encounters a presence that should have meant instant death—a Moonlight Elf. A purebred, light-attribute familiar feared even by Windstorm Wolves. Instead of attacking, it hesitates. Watches. And when it finally approaches, it does so with something resembling embarrassment. It’s been stealing his grilled fish.
What follows isn’t a fight. It’s… awkward. The Moonlight Elf heals his injuries using Moonlight, a soft yet powerful skill, and lingers nearby. Over time, Jiang He notices a pattern. Whenever the Moonlight Elf seems content—fed, respected, not pressured—the Pleasure Points rise. They don’t respond to Jiang He’s feelings at all. They respond to the beast’s.
That realization shifts everything.
Over the next few days, Jiang He gives the Moonlight Elf a name—Ziyue. He watches its disciplined training habits and keeps a careful distance, close enough to cooperate, far enough to avoid provoking hostility. There’s no forced contract. No domination. Just a fragile arrangement built on trust and mutual benefit. It isn’t stable yet, but it exists.
When Jiang He finally looks back on those early days in the valley, one conclusion feels unavoidable. His path as a Beastmaster won’t be built on fear or control. It will rely on something far rarer in this world—understanding.
Where that choice leads is still uncertain. But in a land where beasts, elements, and even moonlight seem to possess their own intent, Jiang He has already stepped onto a road few would even think to walk.
