Beast Taming: Starting from Transmigration and Starting with a Cheat Code

Little Fatty left his boss and stepped into unknown territory.

His webbed feet left shallow imprints on the sandy seabed. He was surrounded by unfamiliar corals, unfamiliar reefs, and unfamiliar currents. Even the light coming down from above had a blue-green hue he had never seen before.

Having grown up as an only child, he actually didn't have much experience interacting with other children.

In his limited memory, the neighbor's little turtle had a wonderfully delicious tail—chewy and bouncy. But now he knew how inappropriate that behavior was, and after being reprimanded by his older brother, he didn't want to repeat it.

There's also the Hidden Dragon Crocodile in the back beach of Azure Dragon Academy, a fool who can't hunt for himself, but he has a wealthy pet owner and even got a piece of Rippling Amber from him.

There's also a shameless old turtle at Azure Dragon Academy who can eat an enormous amount, but let's not even mention him.

My new turtle friend from the Blue Ocean Border made a good impression; he was generous, and his vision and conversation were extraordinary. But recently he's vanished without a trace. Looking back now, it all seems a bit like a scam, though I have no idea what he was after.

As for more experience interacting with similar people, that's all I have.

When Little Fatty recalled it, he suddenly felt bored.

With his eldest brother by his side, he didn't crave others of his kind.

He enjoys sunbathing, sleeping soundly, eating good food, raising good food, and feeding his older brother and his companions good food.

So for Little Fatty, who would rather lie down than stand, fighting and trying to steal the spotlight is a bit too much.

On the surface, he was carrying out a task, but in reality, he had already forgotten about it. The chubby boy wandered around aimlessly, his four legs moving forward mechanically, his gaze unfocused and scattered.

He strolled leisurely past coral reefs and rocky beaches, pondering where to go next and find a suitable corner for another nap.

Just then, his gaze was drawn to a flash of inspiration.

The light wasn't very bright, but it inexplicably attracted turtles to the dark underwater environment.

And the turtles he had just searched for but couldn't find seemed to have appeared there.

Little Fatty stopped, looked back at the path he had come from, and made sure the return route was clear before slowly swimming back to the scene of the incident.

The webbed feet, which are somewhat clumsy on land, provide ample forward propulsion in the water.

He didn't seem to exert much effort, yet his speed was anything but slow; he silently approached the source of the spiritual light.

"Silence! Silence!"

Before you see its form, you hear its sound.

Little Fatty slowed down and straightened his posture.

There was a spacious underwater plaza where a large number of turtles, big and small, had gathered, and more were still entering.

In the center of the square, there is a slightly raised stone platform, on which stands a tortoise with an intricately carved shell.

His neck was held high, and his voice was loud and persuasive, as if he were giving an important speech.

"...Are you willing to let our internal resources be stolen by people of unknown origin?"

The turtle stood on a high place, and its voice carried exceptionally clearly through the seawater.

Behind him stood a spirit turtle with heterochromatic pupils, which gleamed with a faint, cold light in the seawater.

He would occasionally turn back to exchange glances with him, as if they were exchanging some information.

"I'm not reconciled!"

"That's absolutely outrageous!"

"We want to protest!"

The gathered underlings responded one after another, their voices rising and falling, some even excitedly banging on the stone slab.

Little Fatty squeezed in at that moment.

His physique wasn't particularly striking among the turtles, but being accustomed to mimicry, he seamlessly blended into the group: "Exactly! That's outrageous!"

Not only the volume of his voice, but even the fluctuations in his emotions were so perfectly timed that they aroused no suspicion whatsoever.

While he was agreeing verbally, Little Fatty's eyes were scanning his surroundings. He was surrounded by his kind, each with sharp scales and claws, thick carapaces, and strong tails.

His gaze moved from one turtle to another, quickly scanning their size, the luster of their shells, the sharpness of their claws, and the length of their tails.

They're really well cared for!

He sighed silently to himself.

He looked around, his gaze lingering a moment longer on a certain spirit turtle with a large tail.

Soon, a slightly wary gaze fell from the side, as if sensing something, and Little Fatty had no choice but to avert his drooling look.

It seems that this body of water is excellent in both water quality and food availability.

Even their daily routines are excellent.

Otherwise, you couldn't raise such a top-quality turtle with such fine markings, full shell plates, and strong, powerful limbs.

Little Fatty's "aquaculture experience" began to quietly take shape in his mind—most of the key points of aquaculture are similar, and perhaps some of his experience could be used as a reference.

As for resources, he can never have too many good things.

The tortoise on the stage continued its sermon, looking back on the past and looking forward to the future, its arguments clear and logical, striving to resonate with the audience as much as possible.

His voice was sometimes passionate and sometimes deep, as if he were telling a magnificent history.

His words did indeed carry a persuasive power that could convince the turtles. The young turtles below the stage echoed his words, raising their necks high and their spirits were roused.

Little Fatty saw everything and silently exclaimed in his heart: What an energetic young turtle!

I also made a mental note of all the resource points mentioned.

After a resounding response from the audience, the turtle who initiated the call seemed to feel the time was right, and he concluded: "What should we do to defend our rights?"

"protest!"

"procession!"

The initial voices from the audience were uniform and loud, like a rehearsed slogan.

But then, a voice, tinged with confusion, suddenly emerged from the group of turtles: "But who should we protest to? Where should we march?"

Does anyone know where that "mysterious guy" is?

The voice wasn't loud, but it cooled the surrounding enthusiasm for a moment.

"That's true."

The turtles' mild-mannered nature was on full display; the young turtles, who had been so excited just moments before, were no longer so agitated.

It was at this moment that Little Fatty spoke up, "Let's eat our fill before the march! We can even refine the plan while we eat!"

"That's true, I agree!"

Little Fatty specifically sought out a chubby turtle that he found very appealing to speak to.

He immediately gained his first supporter.

With a leader taking the lead, more and more people gradually followed suit.

When you're fired up and screaming your lungs out, you don't feel tired, but once you stop, you do feel some exhaustion.

As a result, more and more turtles responded.

The turtle that's been calling for ages: ?

The turtle behind the scenes, with heterochromatic pupils and who thought he had everything under control: ?

Given their status, they are not stingy when it comes to spending money on treating others.

However, this unexpected and out-of-control situation seemed somewhat familiar, giving them a bad feeling.