“Mom, I got accepted. All your money problems are solved!”

She froze half bite. Her face was serious as she stared at him, a moment of clarity that rarely happened. “My money problems?”

Atuel grunted. “That… thats not what I meant mother.”

“Then what did you mean, son? Please, enlighten this mother of yours.” She placed the skewer on the bed of bread underneath, giving him her undivided attention.

“I… well… you know, the cultivator they are speaking about?”

“Atuel.”

“Well I met him and he said I had the purest spiritual roots he had ever seen!” He exaggerated. “I would be better than demon Ju’s son in no time and… and…”

His mother had tears on her cheeks.

“Mother?” he called, unsure.

“Are you going to leave me too, Atuel? Will I die alone as you galavant somewhere distant?” she covered her face with her hands, silently shaking from sorrow.

“B-but, the man… he said they will give you all the gold you could imagine, more than what could be used in generations. You wont die alone, their will be hundreds of servants-”

She shook her head. “A cage made of jade is still a cage. No matter if a thousand servants came to me, never would I ever call anyone family.” She looked up and froze. Her eyes widened as she saw the hopelessness in Atuel’s eyes.

“You should go with the cultivator, little dumpling,” she said with urgency, eyes filled with worry. “I… I’ll be fine. Don't worry about your mother, she’s a tough woman, you know.” She flexed in mock strength.

Atuel could not breathe. Again she was the one to make the sacrifice! Again he was useless to what his mother truly cared about! Again!

Again!

And Again!

He hated himself. No matter what he did, his mother suffered. No matter how hard he tried, in the end, it was always his mother giving up the greatest amount. Why can’t it be the other way around?!

Why?!

He could feel the hot tears running down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, mother. I’ve been an unfilial child.”

She ran to him with desperation, hugged him harder than any time before. “No. You're perfect the way you are, my little dumpling. This is all my fault. All of it. If I was just less naive, maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

They sat like that until they fell asleep. The food had gone cold, and some had been stolen by a cat, but they never noticed.

The next week passed like a blur. Atuel felt like he had been floating along, not sure what was going on around him. Even when he was caught by the well dressed thugs, he didn't really feel there.

Somewhere distant, they punched and kicked as he huddled into himself subconsciously to protect himself, but that was it. They left after a few minutes of no reaction claiming he was finally broken.

But it was worse.

The final decision had been made as he stood before the massive tent that was replaced to the front gate, outside the walls. The flag hung limp in another perfect day of sorrow. The sun was bright, and air temperate. The climate was made for a day of sadness as he had learned.

Only days of rain and lightning came with it true happiness. Only when the clouds gloomed over the world, and winds tore at its inhabitants.

He gulped. How would the cultivator react when he was rejected? Would he be killed on sight? Or maybe tortured for years without end in sight?

Atuel resolved himself and pushed forward. Into the tent, he found the old man sitting in the lotus position, eyes closed and an aura of heat around him. He sat down in front of him, willing to wait, but he didn’t need to for long.

The cultivator opened his eyes, bright blue light fading away. “I have been waiting. Are you ready?”

Atuel could not look up at him. His silence spoke volumes, though. It was clear what the final decision had been from the consternation on his face.

“Is it final?” the old man asked.

Atuel nodded, he had to bite his lips to keep the tears in. His mother was worth more than anything else to him, more than even the prospect of cultivation.

“You make a mighty sacrifice. Do you know that?”

Atuel nodded.

“There is no return. Is your resolve firm? No one will ever teach you after this no matter how hard you beg.”

Atuel could only nod again.

The cultivator snapped his finger. It made Atuel jump in his spot expecting some form of doom, instead he found a pile of old and beaten parchments bound in front of him and a small money pouch.

“Your filial piety is admirable. This is the most I can provide for you. May The Guide lead you correctly.” With that he turned away, returning to his meditation.

Atuel stared in shock. It couldn’t be. He picked up the book with shaking hands. He treated it as the most sacred thing he had ever received. It held all the hopes and aspirations he held deep down in his chest.

He would never forget the kindness today. He would repay it a hundred folds, he swore in his heart.

Atuel ran out with the coins and cultivation guide without waiting. He made it home in record time even though he took the safest path home. He showed his mother with the biggest smile ever, she only encouraged him not fully understanding. She was in that weird trance state she often enters.

Half there and half somewhere else, far away.