In the world of Tianwu, martial arts reigned supreme. Masters, those who scaled the dizzying heights of martial prowess, were revered throughout the land. It was a path fraught with challenges, a grueling pursuit of strength and mastery over one's inner energy, the lifeblood known as "Qi." And for every soul who aspired to join the ranks of these legendary warriors, there were countless more who yearned for the same glory but were denied by a cruel twist of fate.

 The path to martial greatness was not paved with effort alone. It demanded a gift, a spark of potential bestowed upon only a select few—the blessing of a "Qi Sea." This internal reservoir, this wellspring of energy, was the foundation upon which all martial arts were built. Without it, one was doomed to remain forever ordinary, their dreams of martial glory dashed upon the rocks of destiny.

 The Qi Sea was neither present at birth nor something that could be forced into existence through sheer willpower. It typically manifested between the ages of twelve and fifteen, a cruel game of chance where only a rare few would be chosen.

 It was for this reason that the great martial clans, desperate to preserve their lineages and ensure their continued dominance, scoured the land in search of children touched by destiny, youngsters who possessed the latent potential to cultivate Qi—the lifeblood of a martial artist. These children, hailing from all corners of the world, became known as the "New Blood," adopted into the clans and subjected to rigorous training regimes designed to temper their bodies and awaken their dormant potential.

 In the bustling city of Yunzong, the Xing Clan stood as one such bastion of martial might, their influence woven into the very fabric of the city's hierarchy. Within the heart of their sprawling compound lay a sacred ground—the training arena. It was here that the clan's hopes and aspirations were forged in sweat, blood, and the unyielding pursuit of strength.

 On this particular day, the arena buzzed with anticipation. The Xing Clan's newest recruits, a group of young aspirants, had gathered to witness a spar between two of their own. All eyes were fixed on the raised platform at the center of the arena where a young man clad in black struggled to his knees, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, a testament to the ferocity of the ongoing bout.

 "Give it up, Xing Jue," a voice rang out, laced with a hint of mockery. Standing opposite him, arms crossed and an air of smug superiority painted across his features, stood another young man, his white robes a stark contrast to Xing Jue's dark attire.

 Xing Jue slowly lifted his head, his gaze burning with unyielding defiance as he wiped the blood from his lips. "It's not over until I say it's over!"

 A cruel smile spread across the white-clad youth's face. "Oh? Still putting up a fight, are you? Fine, then. Allow me to show you the true extent of your inadequacy." With a deliberate, menacing stride, he advanced towards Xing Jue, his right fist crackling with a faint, ethereal energy that spoke of his superior cultivation. The air crackled with tension as the two young warriors prepared to clash once more. The outcome of this bout, it seemed, would have lasting implications for both participants.

 "Bring it on!" Xing Jue roared, accepting the challenge without hesitation. In a flash, he surged forward, a blur of motion hurtling towards his white-clad opponent.

 The white-clad youth didn't flinch, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched Xing Jue's approach. At the last moment, just as Xing Jue was about to close the distance, he unleashed a devastating counter. His fist didn't connect with Xing Jue's body, but an invisible force, a wave of condensed Qi, erupted from his fist and slammed into Xing Jue with explosive force.

 "Ugh!"

 Xing Jue cried out, a spray of blood erupting from his lips as he was sent flying backwards. He arced through the air, his body a projectile tossed aside by an unseen force, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

 As he lay there, clutching his ribs in pain, a look of awe washed over Xing Jue's face. "Is that... the power of Martial Qi?" he muttered in disbelief.

 "Finally figured it out, have you, you waste of potential?" The white-clad youth stood over him, his voice dripping with condescension.

 Xing Jue's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as he fought to contain the surge of frustration and humiliation that threatened to consume him.

 Silence hung heavy in the air for a beat. Then, with a fierce roar, Xing Jue launched himself at his tormentor once more. "You... you're not as strong as you think!" His movements were even faster than before, his determination fueled by a burning refusal to be defeated.

 The white-clad youth's smug expression hardened into a mask of ruthless intent. He drew back his fist once more, gathering an even greater concentration of Qi, ready to unleash a blow that would teach Xing Jue a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

 "Enough, Xing Jue," a deep, commanding voice boomed across the training ground.

 The two young men froze mid-motion, their heated exchange instantly forgotten as they turned towards the source of the voice. Standing at the edge of the arena was an imposing figure—a towering man built like a bear, his muscles clearly visible even beneath his simple tunic. This was no ordinary instructor; this was the Head Instructor of the Xing Clan's New Blood program, a Martial Master of considerable renown.

 "Instructor," Xing Jue breathed, his eyes downcast. In the depths of his dark eyes, a single tear traced a path down his cheek—a tear born not of physical pain, but of a frustration that cut far deeper. It was the tear of a young man desperate to prove himself, trapped in a body that seemed determined to hold him back.

 "Xing Jue," the Head Instructor's voice was firm, yet there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I know this is difficult for you, but these are the clan rules. Allowing you to spar with Xing Feng was already an exception. Have you at least come to terms with the gap between your abilities?"

 Xing Jue remained silent, his head bowed in a mixture of shame and unyielding determination. The Head Instructor's words, though harsh, were a painful truth he couldn't ignore.

 "The gap between a Martial Artist and a Martial Apprentice is insurmountable," the instructor's voice boomed across the training ground. "Those who can control Martial Qi render any attack from a mere Martial Artist utterly useless."

 He turned towards the dejected group of teenagers standing before him, their dreams lying shattered at their feet. "I know this is difficult. However understand that the Xing Clan does not abandon its own." The instructor's voice softened slightly, attempting to inject a note of hope into his words. "From this day forward, you will be assigned roles within the Clan's various enterprises. You will contribute, serve, and learn valuable skills. This is how you repay the Xing Clan for the years of training and support."

 His words did little to comfort the disheartened youths. They had all failed to form their Qi Sea, the unmistakable mark of a true Martial Artist and essential for harnessing Martial Qi. Labelled as "Unyielding Blood", they were deemed unfit for combat and were to be relegated to a life of menial labor. Some might transition into minor administrative roles, but their future prospects as glorified servants were bleak at best.

 Xing Jue, his heart heavy with a familiar disappointment, joined the solemn procession marching out of the training grounds. He caught the instructor's eye, a flicker of something akin to regret in those usually impassive eyes. A servant gestured for him to follow, leading him towards the waiting carriages.

 "Such a shame…" the instructor sighed, a rare hint of sadness creeping into his normally stern face, as he watched Xing Jue disappear from view.

 Xing Jue, a mere 15 years old, had been the most promising of their recruits, already a High-Rank Martial Artist. He possessed an unparalleled natural talent for cultivation. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. He had failed to manifest his Qi Sea, a cruel twist of fate that rendered his exceptional skills meaningless in the world of Martial Apprentices and beyond. He, the former prodigy, was now considered nothing more than "Unyielding Blood".

 Servant… The word echoed in Xing Jue's mind as the carriage rumbled along the familiar road. He stared out the window, his heart heavy with resentment and a bitter disappointment that refused to abate. He still remembered the day he had been selected by the Xing Clan. He was just a scrawny street urchin then, but they had recognized his potential, his raw talent. He rose through the ranks swiftly, surpassing even those who had started their training long before him. For a brief, glorious period, he was the best.

 Then came the age for Qi Sea Condensation. Xing Jue waited, confident in his abilities. But it never happened. He watched as those he had once surpassed left him behind, their cultivation journey progressing smoothly now that they possessed their Qi Seas. Desperation clawed at him. He trained harder, pushed himself further, but to no avail. His body refused to cooperate. And now, here he was—discarded.

 "Xing Jue, at least the instructor has secured a decent position for you. You will be a supervisor," a gruff, kind voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

 Old Zhang, his personal attendant and a Low-Rank Martial Artist himself, sat across from him, his wrinkled face creased with concern. He had been by Xing Jue's side ever since the young man had joined the clan. He'd watched him grow, practically raised him as his own. Xing Jue's pain was his own.

 "I'm alright, Old Zhang," Xing Jue forced a smile, not wanting the old man to worry. He loved Old Zhang dearly and hated to see him so troubled.

 Old Zhang saw right through his facade. The sad smile did little to ease the ache in his heart. He sighed, unable to find words of comfort in the face of such unfairness.

 The carriage sped on, soon leaving behind the familiar grounds of the Xing Clan's training camp. They passed through the city gates and continued westwards.

 Unbeknownst to them, back on the road they had just traveled, the air shimmered, rippling like water disturbed by a gentle breeze. Two figures materialized as if from thin air—two elderly men, their presence exuding an aura of immense power.

"It's a mystery," the one in gray robes remarked, gazing at the departing carriage. "The boy possesses remarkable talent yet cannot condense his Qi Sea. Unheard of."

 "Indeed," the man in white robes chuckled. He stroked his long, snow-white beard thoughtfully. "Had he formed his Qi Sea, with proper guidance, he might even have surpassed your precious little Han."

 "Hardly," the man in gray scoffed, though a hint of pride flickered in his eyes at the mention of his protégé. "Han is exceptional."

 "Perhaps," the man in white said, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. He extended his hand, palm up. A pearl-like object, glowing softly, materialized above his open palm.

 "Surely you don't intend to…" the man in gray started, his eyes widening as he recognized the object. It was a Beast Soul, an incredibly rare and powerful artifact. "You, who refuses to take on a single disciple, are going to waste it on that boy?"

 "Waste?" the man in white chuckled. "It serves no purpose gathering dust with me. Besides," he added, gazing at the fading silhouette of the carriage, "it's always a pleasure to see potential bloom." Then, just as quickly as he'd appeared, he vanished, leaving no trace.

 "You old fox," the man in gray murmured, shaking his head fondly. Then, with a faint ripple of air, he too disappeared.