I Can Understand Animals, and I Confer the Title of True Lord at the Zoo

Everyone in the city knew that the run-down zoo in the suburbs was on the verge of closing.

The director was a young man in his twenties who fed the animals, sold tickets, and repaired the cages all by himself.

Only Fang Mu knew the truth:

The unnaturally old tiger in the predator enclosure was a God of War his grandfather had recorded eight hundred years ago, with Qiongqi blood in its veins.

A white python coiled at the bottom of the lake. It had lived for centuries and spoke only once every ten years. The beasts dared only to call it "the one in the lake."

Even the mongrel at the entrance was no ordinary dog. It carried Hanlu blood, and once it caught someone's scent, no evil spirit could escape, not even by fleeing to the Yellow Springs.

And he was the last shaman in the world.