Chapter One: Ye Cheng

In the early morning, the chill of the night still lingered over Luoyang Town. At this hour, most people were just waking up; the streets lay deserted, with only the occasional figure passing by.

At that moment, on a clearing in the hills behind the small town, a slender young boy was supporting himself on his hands, methodically performing push-ups again and again. Beads of sweat as large as beans trickled slowly down his gaunt cheeks. With each rise and fall, the jade pendant hanging from his neck swung back and forth.

Nine hundred.

Nine hundred and one.

...

Nine hundred and ninety...

The boy murmured the count under his breath.

Time slipped by, second after second. Yet the boy persisted, never pausing. Only his movements became slightly slower than before.

"Train, train, train..."

This mantra echoed ceaselessly in the boy’s mind. Perhaps it was the relentless training, for his face was flushed with a feverish hue.

With a dull thud, the boy finally collapsed, arms unable to lift his body any longer, and fell heavily onto the ground.

Feeling the numbing ache coursing through his body, the boy paused to catch his breath, then forced himself upright, legs crossed, fingers interlaced, and eyes closing at last.

Suddenly, wisps of milky-white vapor, visible only to the keenest eye, began to swirl around him and then seeped into his body. But as time passed, the furrow between his brows only deepened.

"Why, after all these years of bitter training, does it always end like this? I can sense the vital energy entering my body, but I can never manage to condense the bloodline..."

This boy’s name was Ye Cheng, a member of the Ye family in Luoyang Town. Yet in the past two years, while most of his peers had condensed their bloodlines and entered the ranks of the Blooded, Ye Cheng remained stuck, unable to form his own bloodline. He had become the soft target in the eyes of those his age.

The scorn he had endured these two years had taught Ye Cheng a painful truth: on this continent where strength was absolute, a man without power would always be trampled underfoot. Only by condensing his bloodline and becoming a formidable Blooded warrior would he have the chance to stand above others, and to protect those he wished to protect.

Strength was forged through cultivation, and the first step on this path was to temper the body. The human form, after all, was the most mysterious existence under heaven and the very origin of cultivation itself. All cultivation was a process of mining the body’s potential, to gain ever greater power.

The Blooded, as they were called, were also known as warriors of the Vital Blood Realm. As the name suggested, the more vigorous a warrior’s vital blood, the more formidable his strength. By honing the body, the blood and energy within would surge forth. With this energy, a warrior’s attack, defense, perception, and even lifespan would all be multiplied. The manifestation of this vigor was the bloodlines that appeared on the body.

The stronger the vital energy, the more bloodlines would appear. Thus, the number of bloodlines was the common measure of a Blooded warrior’s strength.

The Vital Blood Realm was roughly divided into three stages: Minor, Major, and Peak. These stages were defined by the number of bloodlines. One who could manifest more than ten bloodlines was considered to have reached Minor Achievement. Over forty was Major Achievement, and over seventy meant Peak Blooded, whose strength could shatter mountains. It was said that true prodigies could form ninety-nine bloodlines—the so-called Ninefold Perfection—reaching the Great Perfection of the Blooded, their power so fearsome they could even rival those of the Yuan Realm.

For this, Ye Cheng trained ceaselessly, yearning not only to become a Blooded but to ascend beyond, striving for the power of a Yuan Realm master.

In Luoyang Town, any faction with a Yuan Realm master could claim a place among the town’s top powers. Currently, there were merely three such forces in the town, and the Ye family was one of them.

Yet while his ideals soared, reality proved harsh. As time wore on, Ye Cheng still failed to condense his bloodline. Such failure inevitably brought a sense of defeat. Though he felt the vital energy filling his body each time, the bloodline would not form. At this thought, a bitter smile curved his lips.

He had once sought answers from his elders, hoping for an explanation. But even the elders of the Ye family were baffled by the peculiarity of his body. Even the old master of the Ye family—Ye Cheng’s own grandfather—after examining him, could only shake his head in silence.

Despite all this, Ye Cheng refused to give up, holding out hope for some miracle to one day occur.

"I must become strong. Now that Father is gone, I will use these fists to protect my little sister."

Supporting his trembling body, Ye Cheng’s fists slowly clenched, his chest heaving with labored breaths, a flicker of determination shining through his dazed eyes.

Yet as he recalled how his peers in the family had all condensed their bloodlines while he remained stuck in the body-tempering stage, unable to step through the threshold of the Blooded, a trace of that bitter smile returned to his lips.

"Something’s wrong, Cheng!"

Just as Ye Cheng’s breathing began to steady, a stocky figure came running toward him from afar, shouting as he sprinted.

Seeing the figure draw near, Ye Cheng’s brows knit together, as if he already anticipated the reason for the boy’s arrival.

When the figure approached, it proved to be an honest-looking, broad-shouldered youth.

This boy was Ye Ming, only son of Ye Cheng’s eldest uncle. The two were close in age and got along well, so they never bothered with formalities.

"What’s the matter?" Ye Cheng asked calmly, watching Ye Ming catch his breath, hands braced on his knees.

"It’s Ye Ling... cough..." Ye Ming, gasping and coughing, continued anxiously, "Ye Ling’s been cornered by Ye Wei and his gang at the foot of the hill. Cheng, you’d better not—"

"That bastard!"

At those words, Ye Cheng’s delicate features darkened, and he cursed through clenched teeth. Before Ye Ming could finish, Ye Cheng had already rushed down the hill.

Staring after the swiftly receding figure, Ye Ming swallowed his next words. He understood well: although Ye Ling was not Ye Cheng’s blood sister, only an adopted child taken in by Ye Cheng’s father, the two had always been as close as real siblings. Ye Cheng cared deeply for Ye Ling, treating her as his own sister. In this world, aside from his mother—already lost to illness—and his long-missing father, Ye Ling was Ye Cheng’s reverse scale; anyone who bullied her would face his wrath, no matter the cost.

"It’s over... Cheng still hasn’t condensed his bloodline. He’s bound to take a beating," Ye Ming muttered worriedly. He himself had only just condensed his seventh bloodline, far from a match for Ye Wei, who with ten bloodlines had already reached Minor Achievement in the Vital Blood Realm.

Suddenly, a thought flashed in Ye Ming’s mind, making his eyes light up.

He immediately turned and ran toward the Ye family manor.

~

The rear hills of Luoyang Town lay several kilometers from the town proper, connected by a single straight path.

At that moment, several figures blocked the entrance to this path, barring the way to the hills. These youths, mostly around fifteen, were clearly members of the He family.

Beyond the crowd, at their front, stood a slender young girl, poised and elegant. Dressed in simple pale green, her beauty could not be concealed. The modest clothing only served to highlight her fresh, delicate charm. Even at her young age, she was already striking.

"Ye Wei, stop pestering me," the girl said, biting her lip, glaring furiously at the burly youth who led the group.

"Ling, just come hang out with us for a bit," Ye Wei replied smoothly, his face softening with a false smile, though a shadow flickered in his eyes.

"Don’t call me Ling. We’re not that close," she retorted, her brows knitting in disgust at his shameless persistence. Since childhood, only elders and Ye Cheng had ever called her by that name; even her cousin Ye Ming had been scolded for it, let alone this thick-skinned boy before her.

Ye Wei’s face darkened, his gloom now plain to see. Avoiding her gaze, he turned to the boys beside him. "It’s been a while since we’ve seen that useless Ye Cheng. Maybe we should go say hello, catch up with him?"

His companions paused, then broke into knowing laughter.

At their jeering, the girl’s face paled, her teeth clenched tight.

"Despicable!"

...