Tales of Pet Cultivation

Cultivation #BodySnatching #Revenge #Golden Retriever #Pets #Fantasy #Comedy #Transformation On the day I underwent tribulation, a cloud of black mist kicked me out of my sea of consciousness. I didn’t die, but I turned into a golden retriever. Three days later, I was sprawled on the living room floor of a burned-out programmer’s apartment, growling at a phone screen. On it, a white-robed Daoist priest was smiling at the camera as he lectured on the Dao De Jing. The comments were full of people calling him “hubby.” That was my face. My body. The cloud of black mist that had stolen my body was wearing my skin, and in one night it had raked in enough faith energy to keep an ordinary cultivator going for a month. Meanwhile, my daily life consisted of eating sawdust-flavored dog food, getting complaints from the neighbors about barking at night, and nearly being dragged to the vet by the burned-out programmer who’d adopted me to get my balls snipped. He said I’d stop howling at night and acting lovesick if I were fixed. He called to ask the price, fell silent for a moment, then told me the full package cost two thousand and was too expensive, so I’d just have to put up with it. Fine. At least I kept my balls. One night, as moonlight streamed onto the balcony, I discovered that this dog’s body was a cultivation accelerator. Its meridians were naturally clear, and it absorbed moonlight three times faster than a human body. I rebuilt my martial arts cultivation in a dog’s body, recruited a black cat with a torn ear as my adjutant, formed an army of strays, and joined forces with Bureau Nine. We fought all the way from a traditional studies lecture hall in the capital to the Pantheon on Fenglong Mountain. The animals were my troops, police dog 0367 was my official rank, and my true Celestial Hound form was my trump card. That night, my enemy’s offline event drew a packed crowd of a million fans. A golden retriever pushed open the door and walked in. The comments exploded. “You’ve had this body for three years.” I raised my dog’s head. “Time to give it back.” The early part is rough, the middle part is a blast, and in the end, being a dog is better than being a person.