PBSE 01

Chapter 1: Wasted Blood

Written by Wei Yi Yong Heng 

“Hiss…”

A dazzling white light flashed from the massive stone beneath the boy’s hand. Gradually, the glow dimmed until it vanished completely—but the boy’s hand remained pressed firmly against the stone.

“How many times has he tested already?”
Several other youths stood in a circle around the stone, watching the boy with complicated expressions.

“Since morning, this is the eighth time,” said a chubby child.

“Eight times? Why keep trying? Doesn’t he know that the Heaven-Earth Stone never lies? Whatever it shows the first time is final.”

The Heaven-Earth Stone tested one’s bloodline—gray, black, red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet—nine ranks in total, with violet being supreme.

But to everyone’s astonishment, the boy before the stone had awakened none of the nine-ranked bloodlines. Instead, the stone had shown a white light—something outside the known spectrum.

“White bloodline… a wasted bloodline. Even if you test a thousand or ten thousand times, the result will never change.”

A young man with refined features and sharp eyes stepped forward. He wore a spotless white robe, his bearing confident and commanding.

“Brother Yu.”
“Brother Qin Yu.”

The surrounding youths looked at him with awe. Among the hundred participants in today’s testing within the Hammerstone Tribe, Qin Yu had awakened the strongest bloodline—red.

Most others had only gray or black, with black considered the highest their tribe could usually produce.

Qin Yu had thus become the undisputed leader of the younger generation—
a title that had once belonged to the boy standing before the Heaven-Earth Stone.

Qin Yu’s words made the boy tremble. Gritting his teeth, he finally withdrew his hand from the cold stone, eyes filled with confusion and despair.

Just as everyone thought he would give up, a flicker of defiance flashed in his gaze. He pressed his hand to the stone again—for the ninth time.

With a hum, the Heaven-Earth Stone erupted in a burst of white light, and a violent force blasted him backward. He spat blood, his thin frame crumpling to the ground, face pale as paper and eyes full of hopelessness.

“I told you,” Qin Yu crouched beside him, voice low and cold. “Even if you test a thousand or ten thousand times, it won’t change a thing. Who would’ve thought the mighty chief would have such a useless son? You’d be better off dead—at least then you wouldn’t waste the tribe’s food.”

A faint spark lit up in the boy’s eyes, but it vanished almost immediately, replaced by confusion.

His name was Qin Mo, son of the Hammerstone Tribe’s deputy chief. Once, he had been their brightest rising star. Yet during his coming-of-age ceremony, the bloodline test had shattered his future.

“White… white wasted blood…” Qin Mo muttered as he returned to his stone hut. Suddenly, he slammed his fist down on the stone table. The blow cracked it deeply.

His knuckles split open, red blood dripping freely—real, red blood, not the white shown by the Heaven-Earth Stone.

But he knew better than anyone that the test’s results were real. The stone didn’t measure the color of blood, but its potential—the power hidden within one’s lineage.

“Damn it! Why white? Even gray would’ve been fine!” he growled bitterly.

With even a gray bloodline, he could’ve opened his acupuncture points and proudly become a warrior of the human race.

But white? White blood meant no awakening, no cultivation—forever barred from the path of strength. In this world of survival by power, as Qin Yu had said, his existence was nothing but a burden on the tribe’s scarce resources.

Never before had Qin Mo felt such hatred for the color white—nor such helplessness.

“White… damn white… cursed white…” He cursed until the anger drained away, leaving only silence.

His thoughts drifted to another world—one completely different from this one. In that world, he had everything done for him—food, clothes, shelter—and two people who would shoulder the sky for him: his real parents.

Somehow, he had crossed into this world. At first, like a rebellious runaway, he hadn’t missed his gentle parents at all.

Here, he had been the young chief, a prodigy born with the strength of five hundred catties, admired by all.

But the bloodline test had destroyed everything.

Unknowingly, Qin Mo wandered out of his hut, ignoring the strange looks from tribesmen. He climbed the mountain behind the tribe, sat at the cliff’s edge, and closed his eyes, letting the wind brush past him.

“It’s been two months… I wonder if you two are doing well?” he murmured, gazing at the distant mist, where he imagined two familiar faces smiling at him.

A pang of guilt tightened in his chest. In his former world, he had been a terrible son—always fighting, always causing trouble. His parents had always cleaned up after him, yet he had never once thanked them.

Not once had he done something as simple as serving them a meal, pouring them tea, or lighting a cigarette.

“Qin Mo, you’re a useless, weak, stupid fool,” he cursed himself quietly, hoping the words would ease his guilt.

“Thinking of jumping off?” a voice suddenly said behind him.

He knew that voice well—it was the tribe chief, Qin Lin, his father in this world.

A towering man, eight feet tall, with a rugged build and an aura of overwhelming strength—the unmistakable presence of a warrior.

“Go ahead, jump. I’ll be waiting to collect your body,” Qin Lin said flatly when Qin Mo didn’t respond.

The anger bubbling in Qin Mo’s chest suddenly cooled. This is my father?

What kind of father says that to his son? “Go ahead and jump—I’ll collect your corpse”?

What, was collecting his corpse too much trouble for him?

Turning around, Qin Mo glared at the man. “Why should I jump?” he demanded.

“No courage to die?” Qin Lin asked in return.

“I never even thought about dying, so what courage are you talking about?” Qin Mo snapped.

“Oh.” Qin Lin’s tone was indifferent as he turned to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey—aren’t you even going to ask why I’m standing here?” Qin Mo couldn’t take it anymore. Even if this was just his ‘cheap old man,’ technically, this body was still his son’s!

“Why?” Qin Lin asked calmly, his voice light as a breeze.

But that calm tone was exactly what lit Qin Mo’s temper.

“What, I can’t just come to enjoy the view? Feel the wind? Are you even my real father? Your son’s been hit with the worst blow of his life, and instead of comforting me, you came to watch me jump off a cliff? Am I even your real son? What if I really did jump—would you even care?”