Beast-Taming Cultivator from Two Realms

Chen Beiwu stands in the beast market with only a few dull spirit stones in his palm and a row of caged monsters breathing hot, expensive air at him. Every snarl and rustle of fur sounds like mockery. In an age when the Immortal Alliance governs all and strength is measured by the beasts at your side, he can barely afford a mangy cub, let alone a contract worthy of a cultivator’s future.

Above him, the world is stacked like a ladder he can’t reach: Five Great Grotto-Heavens sealed off in radiant haze, Thirteen Immortal Sects perched on sacred peaks, the Seven-Nine Upper Sects brokering power, Ninety-Nine Orthodox Clans scheming for scraps of glory. Everyone agrees on one truth—without wealth, there is no cultivation. Beast-taming burns through medicines, scripture, rare feed, and spirit pills. The poor don’t just start at the bottom; they start already broken.

Chen Beiwu’s clan once had a name that opened doors. Now it buys him only pity and closed smiles. The elders whisper that, if he’s diligent and lucky, he might scrape his way to Foundation Establishment. Core Formation? That’s for those born under better roofs.

Then, in a forgotten corner between two realms, he stumbles across a treasure that should not exist in his hands—a thing that hums like a heartbeat and tastes of storm on his tongue. From that moment, the rules he’s been told all his life begin to bend. His path no longer points toward a modest, safe plateau, but toward a hidden road that climbs past the known heavens, sharp as a blade and paid for in blood, bone, and the loyalty of beasts no sect has ever truly controlled.