Chapter 1085 The Lost Bloodline: Qingchen

While the Thunder Prison, the Endless Fire Domain, and the Martial Realm were expanding rapidly, bringing waves of turmoil to the long-silent Great Thousand World, the five ancient races, like five giant mountains of the Great Thousand World, still stood tall and majestic, seemingly unaffected by the three emerging overlord forces.

The Futu Ancient Clan is one of the five ancient clans of the Great Thousand Worlds, with noble bloodlines and a long history.

Deep within its ancestral land, towers constructed of black and white giant stones pierce the sky, exuding an ancient and powerful spiritual aura.

This place is a symbol of power and a hall of glory, but for Qingchen, who has just celebrated his birthday and is now twelve years old, this magnificent clan land is more like a splendid yet cold prison.

At dawn, before the mist had dissipated, the training ground of the Futu Ancient Clan was already bustling with people.

The younger generation is cultivating the unique spiritual techniques of the Floating Pagoda Clan under the guidance of their clan instructors, condensing into solid or illusory black and white Floating Pagoda light and shadow.

Qingchen stood alone in the far corner of the training ground, diligently circulating his spiritual energy according to the methods taught by the instructor.

He was slightly thin, with delicate features, and one could vaguely make out the exquisite outline of his mother, Qing Yanjing, especially her eyes, which were clear and deep.

But compared to his peers who were either proud or confident, there was always a hint of timidity and loneliness hidden deep in his eyes.

He channeled spiritual energy through his fingertips, attempting to condense the pagoda, but the black and white light remained dim and scattered, like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

Compared to the already quite substantial pagoda prototypes in the hands of his peers, his performance was rather clumsy.

"laugh…"

A sneer, undisguised, came from the side. It was Qingyun, the grandson of the Qing Clan's Grand Elder. He was two years older than Qingchen and his talent was considered outstanding among the younger generation.

He held up a small, solid black and white pagoda, about a foot tall, and shook it smugly: "Qingchen, is your 'Pagoda of Floating Pagoda' made of paper? A gust of wind could blow it down, right?"

A suppressed chuckle suddenly rippled through the crowd.

Many of the disciples looked at Qingchen with undisguised contempt and mockery.

Although Qingchen's mother was Qing Yanjing, the most outstanding genius of the Qing lineage, the Futu Ancient Clan, as one of the five ancient races, had extremely strict clan rules and even stricter requirements for bloodlines.

Qing Yanjing gave birth to a child out of wedlock, and even Qing Chen's father was unknown, which greatly disgraced the Futu Ancient Clan and the Qing lineage.

Even the head of the Qing clan, who was Qingchen's maternal grandfather, had to imprison Qingchen and her son for several years due to clan rules.

Two years ago, the head of the Qing Clan passed away. Given Qing Yanjing's status and strength, the position of head of the clan would most likely have fallen to her. However, because of Qing Chen, the illegitimate son, the appointment was blocked by the Grand Elder of the Futu Ancient Clan and had not been approved.

Qingchen pursed his lips, lowered his head, and tried even harder to channel his spiritual energy. His face turned red, but the light and shadow of the Floating Pagoda disappeared completely with a 'poof' because of his impatience.

"A piece of trash is a piece of trash. No matter how much you train, it's all in vain." Qingyun curled her lips, her voice not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

"You can't even condense the most basic pagoda properly, you've really disgraced Aunt Jing."

The instructor stood in front, his gaze sweeping over this side, his brows furrowing slightly, but he did not speak up to stop them.

In the ancient Futu clan, strength is paramount and talent determines status. Qingchen is not only an illegitimate child, but his behavior also makes him difficult to take seriously.

Qingchen clenched her fists so tightly that her nails almost dug into her flesh.

He was already used to such ridicule, but each time, his heart still ached as if it were being pricked by a needle.

It wasn't that he wasn't trying; he longed to become stronger and gain recognition more than anyone else. However, the spiritual energy within him seemed to always be working against him. When it came to cultivating the supernatural powers of the Floating Pagoda Clan, he found it twice as difficult and half as effective, and his progress was so slow that it was despairing.

After a day of cultivation, Qingchen dragged her weary body back to a quiet courtyard located in a relatively secluded part of the clan's territory. This was her mother Qing Yanjing's residence.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, a faint, comforting scent of sandalwood wafts out.

Qing Yanjing was sitting at the stone table in the courtyard, brewing tea with her delicate hands.

She remains as beautiful as ever; time seems to have left no trace on her face. In fact, as a mother, her fuller figure exudes a mature, peach-like charm.

"Chen'er, you're back." Seeing her son, Qing Yanjing smiled gently, put down the teapot, and waved to him.

"Mother," Qingchen called softly, walked to her mother's side and sat down, habitually resting her head on her warm knees.

Only with his mother could he feel a sense of unconditional warmth and security.

Qing Yanjing gently stroked her son's soft black hair, feeling the subtle fluctuations of spiritual energy on his body and the undisguised frustration, and her heart ached.

How could she not know the injustices her son had suffered in the clan?

However, as an ancient race, the Futu Ancient Clan has extremely strict clan rules, and the current Grand Elder, Futu Xuan, is even more pedantic. If her father had not been the head of the Qing Clan, she and her son would probably have been expelled from the Futu Ancient Clan long ago.

With her father's death, she and her son lost a major support within the clan, and rumors and gossip began to circulate.

"Was your cultivation successful today?" she asked softly, though she already knew the answer.

Qingchen was silent for a moment, then shook her head, her voice choked with emotion: "Mother, am I really so useless? I can't even build the simplest pagoda..."

"Don't talk nonsense." Qing Yanjing interrupted him, her tone firm: "My son is exceptionally talented, but... the time is not yet ripe."

Her gaze was fixed on the distance, carrying a complex emotion that was difficult to describe.

"The time isn't right yet?" She had been saying this to herself for twelve years.

Why does that person's bloodline manifest so strangely in Chen'er? Even the Floating Pagoda bloodline is completely suppressed?

It should be noted that the Futu Ancient Clan, as one of the five ancient races, possesses a bloodline power that is among the best in the world. However, when faced with another domineering bloodline power within Qingchen's body, the Futu bloodline is completely suppressed and dormant.

As Qing Yanjing was deep in thought, the courtyard gate was gently pushed open, and a woman dressed in magnificent palace attire, with a cool and noble temperament, walked in. She was Qing Yanjing's older sister, Elder Qingxuan, one of the actual power holders of the Qing Clan.

Having served as an elder for several years, Qingxuan's temperament has changed somewhat. If Qingyanjing is reserved and gentle, then Qingxuan is outwardly dignified, with sharp eyes and a sense of oppression from someone who has long held a high position.

"Sister." Qing Yanjing stood up to greet her.

"Aunt." Qingchen quickly bowed respectfully, feeling somewhat uneasy.

My aunt holds a high position and is very busy, so she has rarely come to visit them in recent years.

Qingxuan nodded slightly, her gaze lingering on Qingchen for a moment. Seeing the lingering dejection on his face and the dust that had settled on his robes from his cultivation, she sighed softly. She beckoned, "Come here, Chen'er."

Qingchen approached as instructed.

Qingxuan reached out and gently brushed away non-existent dust from his shoulder with a soft touch, a stark contrast to her usual decisive and efficient demeanor.

"I heard you suffered some injustice at the training ground today?" Her voice was soft, carrying the concern of an elder.

Qingchen's nose tingled, and he almost burst into tears, but he held back, lowered his head, and whispered, "It's Qingchen's fault for being useless and bringing shame to Mother and Aunt."

“Nonsense.” Qingxuan’s tone was gentle but firm: “The path of cultivation is long and far-reaching. Speed ​​is not important. Your mother was not always so brilliant.”

She glanced at Qing Yanjing beside her, and the two sisters exchanged a complex look that only they could understand.

"There is no doubt that one of the purest bloodlines of my Futu Ancient Clan flows in your veins," Qingxuan continued, her tone encouraging.

"Perhaps it's just not the right time, or perhaps we need different guidance. Don't let others' gossip make you feel inferior or disturb your peace of mind."

She took out a warm jade bottle from her sleeve and handed it to Qingchen: "This is a 'Mind-Calming Pill'. It may be beneficial for you to stabilize your mind and sense spiritual power. Take it and cultivate well. Don't let your mother down."

Qingchen was stunned, staring incredulously at the jade bottle, then at her aunt's warm gaze.

This...this was completely different from the scolding he had expected from his aunt!

"Sister, this is too precious..." Qing Yanjing was also somewhat surprised.

"It's nothing, just a small token of my appreciation for the child." Qingxuan waved her hand and stood up. "I have many clan affairs to attend to, so I'll be going now. Xiaojing, please guide Chen'er well and don't let him get stuck in a rut."

She smiled at Qingchen again, a smile that, though faint, was warm: "Remember, you are Qing Yanjing's son, and my nephew, Qingxuan. In this ancient Futu clan, no one can truly look down on you, unless you look down on yourself first."

After saying that, she turned and left, her clothes fluttering, leaving behind a lingering fragrance in the courtyard and a warm feeling in the room.

Qingchen held the still-warm jade bottle, looking in the direction her aunt had left, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

It turns out that his aunt wasn't uncaring; she just expressed it differently...

"Chen'er, look, your aunt cares about you." Qing Yanjing hugged her son and said softly, "Not everyone in the clan is like Qingyun. You must remember your aunt's words and not give up on yourself."

Qingchen nodded heavily, holding the jade bottle tightly in his hand.

His aunt's approval and care were like a ray of light, dispelling some of the gloom in his heart.

However, after the initial warmth subsided, the question that had been buried deep in my heart resurfaced.

At night, Qingchen lay in bed, tossing and turning. He took out the bottle of calming and spirit-concentrating pills and stroked the warm, smooth bottle.

"Mother," he said softly, looking at his mother sitting by the bedside beside him. "My aunt is very good to me... but why do the other people in the clan, especially Qingyun and the others, always treat me that way?"

And…who exactly is my father? Why does he never come to see us?

Qing Yanjing's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Looking into her son's eyes, which appeared exceptionally clear and determined in the moonlight, she knew that this issue could no longer be avoided completely.

She paused for a moment, then gently stroked her son's forehead, her eyes filled with complex emotions—longing,感慨, and an indescribable pride.

"Chen'er, your father... he is a very, very good person." Her voice was soft, as if afraid of disturbing some distant dream.

"It's not that he doesn't come to see us, but... he has something he must protect, and responsibilities he must bear. Those responsibilities are very important, very important, and they concern the fate of many, many people."

She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully: "His identity... is somewhat special. Telling you now might bring you unnecessary trouble, or even danger."

"When you grow up a bit more and become stronger, Mommy will tell you everything, okay?"

She looked at her son with pleading eyes: "Believe me, your father never abandoned us. If he knew you existed, he would be very, very happy and proud. One day, you will meet again, and then you will understand everything."

Hero? Responsibility? Danger? Qingchen silently repeated these words in his mind.

They are still far away, but the unquestionable love and pride in his mother's eyes, as well as his aunt's unusual concern today, make him vaguely feel that his father's identity is probably far beyond his imagination.

The resentment and bitterness stemming from the lack of paternal love seemed to be replaced at this moment by a complex emotion mixed with curiosity, longing, and a vague unease.

In order not to disappoint her mother and aunt, and in order to gain the right to know the 'truth' as ​​soon as possible, Qingchen cultivated even more diligently.

He still frequently visits the library, hoping to find a way to break through his own limitations.

On this day, he was reading an ancient book about the changes in spiritual power attributes when Qingyun and the others gathered around him again.

"Oh, so this good-for-nothing is still studying hard? Elder Xuan gave you extra help, but I haven't seen you improve at all," Qingyun said sarcastically, reaching out to try and snatch Qingchen's book again.

However, this time, Qingchen suddenly raised her head, her gaze no longer showing the timidity of the past, but rather a stubbornness and coldness born of being driven to the brink.

He didn't speak, but just stared intently at Qingyun.

Qingyun was slightly taken aback by the gaze, and her outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

He had never seen such an expression in Qingchen's eyes before.

Just then, a clear, cold voice rang out from not far away: "Qingyun, the Scripture Pavilion is a quiet place. Who gave you permission to make a scene here?"

Everyone turned around and saw that Elder Qingxuan had appeared beside the bookshelf at some point, her face calm but her eyes filled with undeniable authority.

Qingyun's face turned deathly pale instantly. She quickly withdrew her hand and bowed deeply, saying, "Elder Xuan... we were just joking with Qingchen..."

"A joke?" Qingxuan's gaze swept over the book that Qingchen was tightly protecting in his hands, and then looked at Qingyun and the several silent boys behind him.

“I think this is bullying others by taking advantage of one’s power. Go to the punishment hall and receive three days of confinement, and copy the clan rules a hundred times.”

Qingyun dared not raise any objections and slunk away with his men.

Qingxuan then walked up to Qingchen, looked at his still tense face, and softened her tone: "Are you alright?"

Qingchen shook her head and said softly, "Thank you, Aunt."

Qingxuan looked at him with a hint of pity in her eyes and gently patted his shoulder: "The disciples in the clan are of varying quality, you don't need to pay attention to them. Just focus on your own things. If you have any troubles that you can't solve, you can come to me anytime."

After saying that, she didn't linger and turned to leave, as if she had just happened to be passing by.

But Qingchen knew that this was no coincidence.

As Qingchen watched her aunt's departing figure, she looked down at the ancient book in her hand, and the desire to become stronger in her heart had never been so intense.

He wants to become stronger!

It wasn't just to stop being bullied, but also to be able to stand tall in front of my mother and ask for that answer.

So that one day I can meet my father, who is known as a 'hero'.

Also, so as not to disappoint my aunt's seemingly strict but actually profound protection and expectations.

The dormant blood in his body seemed to flow faster because of this increasingly firm will.

A barely perceptible arc of silver electricity, distinct from the spiritual power of the Buddha, flashed and disappeared the instant the pages coalesced at his fingertips, unnoticed by anyone…