The Martial Emperor with Dragon Blood Chapter 1: Five Year Struggle

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Tianwu Kingdom, Limestone City, Ye Clan Arena.

A crowd of teenagers stood in rows beneath the scorching sun, their expressions radiating anticipation. Surrounding the edge of the arena, a group of middle-aged observers watched with faces marked by anxiety, their eyes locked intently on their respective offspring.

This day marked the tri-monthly Ye Clan Gate Exam, presided over by Ye Zhantian, the Head of the Martial Arts Division. Attendance was mandatory for all clan members under the age of 15. Regardless of past performance, this singular assessment would dictate both the candidate’s and their family’s standing within the Ye Clan hierarchy. It was a long-standing tradition that only the talented would be fostered by the Clan.

“Ye Mei!”

A man positioned in the heart of the arena, clad in grey chain mail armor with a fierce demeanor and piercing gaze, began calling names from a roll.

The audience’s eyes immediately swiveled toward a 14-year-old girl with dark hair and delicate features. She wore violet training attire that highlighted her graceful form. Rising to the summons, Ye Mei stepped toward the center of the arena with steady, light movements. She confronted an ironwood stump and launched a strike with her small fist.

Thump!

A muffled boom echoed through the air. On the remarkably dense surface of the wood, a distinct, deep imprint appeared.

“A one-inch deep depression. She has successfully passed the Gate Exam with her right fist.”

Upon hearing the verdict, a bright, triumphant smile spread across Ye Mei’s face.

“Incredible, no wonder everyone calls her a prodigy. Even six months ago, she hadn’t unlocked the Gate in her right fist.”

“Her aptitude might even rival that of young master Ye Changsheng!”

As murmurs of admiration swept through the crowd, Ye Mei’s grin widened further.

Within Tianwu Kingdom, martial power was the ultimate standard. Every martial artist sought to open the Five Gates by directing the energy flow from their Dantian. Every individual possessed five Gates located in their four limbs and their mind. Once a Gate was breached, the accumulated energy in the Dantian would surge forth, granting the practitioner explosive force and heightened speed. Successfully opening all five Gates allowed a martial artist to transition into the Spirit Cultivating Realm.

A typical adolescent’s punch generated roughly half a stone, or 130 pounds, of force. However, once the Gates were unlocked and the Dantian was leveraged, that same blow could strike with a strength of one stone. Upon reaching the Spirit Cultivating Realm, a practitioner could potentially reach two stones of strength.

“Excellent! For your next trial, I encourage you to focus on the final Gate and strive for the Spirit Cultivating Realm!” Ye Zhantian declared, showing his clear satisfaction.

The only remaining obstacle for Ye Mei was the Mind Gate. Should she manage to breach it, she would become a Spirit Cultivating Realm practitioner before her fourteenth birthday—an achievement rarely seen in either the Ye Clan or Limestone City.

“Thank you, Uncle Ye. I shall strive to improve.”

With a joyful heave of her chest, Ye Mei exited the arena, drawing gazes as she walked.

Ye Zhantian’s brows knitted in slight annoyance as he glanced at the next name on his list. “Next, Ye Mo!”

At the announcement, the assembled group searched for the boy, but Ye Mo was nowhere to be found.

“Next, Ye Mo!” Ye Zhantian repeated, his voice booming across the arena. Still, no one emerged.

“Typical of someone from the Branch Houses. Not only is he talentless, but he lacks even the courage to face the exam. Pathetic.”

“He probably has some self-awareness. He’s failed the Gate Exam for five years straight without opening a single one. Why would he show up and humiliate himself?”

“Dragons breed dragons, and phoenixes breed phoenixes; it is a given that the offspring of trash... are trash themselves!”

Incensed by the whispers, Ye Zhantian shouted, “Who dares suggest that the seeds of rubbish are rubbish? True, Ye Mo may lack martial talent, but no one has the right to mock him or his father! If not for Ye Qing’s heroic sacrifices at the Door of Desolation, our Ye Clan would not enjoy its current standing.”

Tianwu Kingdom was a small nation among countless others within the Zone of Desolation. The Door of Desolation was the most formidable Ancestral Gate in the region, an entity so distant and powerful that it remained unreachable for most. Only the most exceptional martial artist in the Kingdom could ever hope to enter it.

Tragically, Ye Qing’s Dantian was shattered during the Battle of Yidao. Upon returning to Tianwu, he faced repeated assassination attempts and survived only through the kindness of allies, eventually retreating to the Ye Clan complex for a quiet life. This was the legend of a fallen hero.

In the ten years that followed, Tianwu Kingdom produced no genius to match Ye Qing. Now, a decade later, the man once heralded as the Ye Clan’s greatest treasure was dismissed as useless. His fall had actually resulted in generous compensation from the Door of Desolation, which ironically fueled the Ye Clan’s prosperity.

Outside a modest hut, a 15-year-old boy hastily wiped blood from the corner of his mouth before pushing open the door. He possessed a youthful, baby-faced appearance and jet-black hair, yet his eyes burned with fierce resolve. Despite his efforts to clean himself, a swollen, red mark remained on his right cheek.

“I may not have opened a Gate, but that doesn’t mean I’ll continue to play the punching bag!” Ye Mo muttered to himself. He had skipped the Gate Exam to avoid public shame, but unfortunately, he had run into his usual tormentors. He spat on the ground and entered the small dwelling.

His father, a middle-aged man with features that betrayed a history of grit, lay on a wooden bed. His face was waxen and his hair disheveled.

Observing his father’s worsening health, Ye Mo forced a smile. “Dad, I’m home.”

Ye Qing noticed his son’s injuries, his eyes showing clear anguish. “Did they beat you again?”

“I’m fine, Dad. Even without opening my Gates, I put up a fight against those guys.” Ye Mo moved his hand, exposing the bruised skin on his cheek.

“Mo’er, my son, with your inherent potential and your mother’s bloodline, your aptitude should surpass my own. Who dares bully you?” Ye Qing sighed deeply.

The youths targeting Ye Mo were trainees who had only opened one Gate. To Ye Mo, who had yet to breach his first, the disadvantage was severe, leading to his frequent injuries. The truth, however, was that Ye Mo’s inability to open a Gate was not due to a lack of talent. In fact, he was arguably the most gifted youth in Limestone City.

By age ten, Ye Mo could already control the flow of energy from his Dantian and absorb the Yuan Chi of Heaven and Earth—a transition that signified the birth of a true martial artist. This revelation had once stunned the entire city, as such a feat was virtually unheard of in the kingdom.

However, Ye Mo had shelved his own training to nurse his disabled father, hoping to restore him. After reading through the clan’s archives, he had discovered a rare, theoretical method to use Yuan Chi to repair a broken Dantian. It was a risky gamble that most would never dare, but Ye Mo had committed himself to it completely.

At first, Ye Qing resisted, but he could not overcome his son’s determination. Over the last five years, through Ye Mo’s constant care, Ye Qing had miraculously regained some sensation in his limbs—a development deemed impossible.

Every day, Ye Mo absorbed Heaven and Earth Yuan Chi to heal his father, exhausting his own potential in the process. Had he channeled that energy toward his own cultivation, he would have likely ascended to the second or third level of the Spirit Cultivating Realm—surpassing all his peers.

Because of this choice, he was labeled “trash” and subjected to relentless bullying. Ye Mo had endured a decade worth of grief in these five short years.

“Mo’er,” Ye Qing said suddenly, “if I am not mistaken, today was the day of the Gate Exam.”

“I went, but I failed.”

“You are lying to me again.”

“I would have failed regardless. Instead of being a laughing stock, I chose to use that time to nourish you with my Yuan Chi.” Ye Mo walked to the bedside with a grin and placed his palm against his father’s chest. His Dantian churned, pulsating with waves of Yuan Chi that flowed into his father’s body.

Ye Qing closed his eyes, his Dantian hungrily absorbing the energy. A healthy flush began to return to his skin. He, too, yearned for recovery, dreaming of the day he could reclaim his strength and repay his son.

Feeling his Yuan Chi draining at an uncharacteristic speed, Ye Mo coughed. “That is strange. My Yuan Chi is depleting faster than ever today.”

Crack!

Before Ye Mo could comprehend the situation, the wooden bed collapsed, sending Ye Qing tumbling to the floor.

“Dad! Are you okay?” Ye Mo cried out.

“I am fine, but stay back!” Ye Qing’s eyes remained shut, his voice heavy. The broken remains of the bed were vibrating violently.

“Dad, what is happening?” Ye Mo asked in terror as his father’s body began to convulse uncontrollably.

Ye Qing’s face was twisted in agony, yet a trace of a smile played on his lips. The five years of healing had finally allowed him enough control to reactivate his own Dantian.

As Ye Qing prepared to channel his inner energy, his expression shifted to one of intense strain.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion echoed in the room as Ye Qing’s Dantian and abdomen burst open. Blood splattered across Ye Mo’s face.

Ye Mo stood frozen in shock, his hand slowly wiping the cold droplets of blood from his cheeks. With tear-filled eyes, he lunged toward his father. “Dad!”

Roar!

Suddenly, a terrifying howl erupted from the wreckage of the Dantian, and a pitch-black Yuanli Beast emerged. It was a monstrous hybrid of a tiger and a panther, baring two massive, terrifying fangs.