Is that a Wisp?

"You okay there?" Krune patted Cultivator, asking in concern.

Sniffing, Cultivator wiped his tears, taking in deep breaths before muttering, "Yeah…give me some time. I'll get by."

Cultivator then glanced at Krune for a moment before adding, "By the way, you have no right to call me ugly."

Krune just smiled in response and continued, "Whether she accepts you or not, she's still your mother. Just work hard in making her accept you." Krune smiled, lightly patting Cultivator. "I mean, the both of you are like mirror replicas. Probably all of her is what makes most, if not all of you."

"Right." Cultivator visibly relaxed as he barely smiled. "There's no need to despair. I had worried about being unable to find my mother for the rest of my life. But now, I have found her. This is already a joyous occasion. If she doesn't wish to accept me, I'll just be patient and work hard so that she'll accept me as her son one day."

"Alos, no matter how many attacks she throws my way, I can tank them all." Cultivator firmed himself, uplifting his spirits as he said, "I am strong. I won't die until I obtain her acknowledgment. After all…"

"I am Cultivator!"

"That's the spirit." Krune laughed, helping Cultivator get up. "Moping around isn't available in your dictionary."

"Thank you, Krune. I am glad to have befriended you." Cultivator slightly teared up as he controlled himself, patting Krune as he began to walk forward. "I'll handle all of it from here."

"Go! I'm rooting for you." Krune raised his fist, pumping it in the air. As for Hazak, it silently stood behind Krune, glaring at the other Black Demons.

Upon seeing Cultivator walk towards her, Zamuria snorted, preparing herself to attack when Cultivator raised his hand, saying aloud, "Long ago, when I was eight years old, I was bullied by everyone in my home city…"

"Are you telling a goddamn story now?" Zamuria shouted in anger, though, even she hadn't noticed that her killing intent had already reduced automatically. When Cultivator stopped ten meters away from her, she didn't attack him for some reason, staring straight at him as she cursed him when he paused for more than a second. "Are you dumb? Continue speaking or I'll chop you up into pieces."

"Every pig that was able to eat and fart Godly Energy had parents. Every single damn one. Except for me," Cultivator's voice trembled as he continued. "But I didn't."

"Everyone mocked father for being an idiot. For most of the day, all he spent doing was reciting poems. He barely earned anything for our living." Cultivator shed tears as he narrated his story. "He tried to work many times. But every single time, he would suddenly change mid-work and begin to recite poems. There was something wrong with him. When he began to recite those poems, he wasn't aware of anything that happened around him. Even when he was injured, he wouldn't know."

"Eventually, begging was our only resort. Father knew of his condition and sought to beg while his condition activated, hoping for at least someone to pity him and drop a Tier 1 God Stone." Cultivator clenched his hand into a fist, saying through gritted teeth, "People mocked him and made fun of him, jeering at his illness."

"On the first day, he was stripped naked. He earned three Tier 1 God Stones that day." Cultivator's voice turned hoarse as he went on. "On the second day, he was pushed into a pond, almost drowning him. Had he not broken out of his condition on time, he would have drowned to death. He got five Tier 1 God Stones that day. But on the third day, his main point was viciously hit."

"And the ones that did that were my peers. Barely eight years old, yet they were capable of such atrocities. Worst of all, no one helped him. As for any Tier 1 God Stones he earned that day, they stole it. He earned nothing that day while the injury caused him to be bedridden for a month." Cultivator made eye contact with Zamuria as he told her, "I took up his role the next day."

"Father was the only one I could imitate. So, I begged while behaving similar to him, reciting the poems that I had heard from him numerous times." Cultivator cleared his throat, singing a mild tune, "With the stars, I follow with you, come may I have been, for all I'm you!"

"My wish had I one, for all I am with you, my hope is relit, as long as I see you!"

"Rise and abide, for the world in you, arise like sunshine, as long as I feel you!"

"Far away you go, for the one that sees you, but hope shall I have, for as long as I know you!"

The poem, though lacking in tune, had a strange rhythm, causing Zamuria to tear up all of a sudden.

Not noticing it, Cultivator continued, "For the first day, it seemed people had pitied me. I earned 53 Tier 1 God Stones and even a Tier 2 God Stone. On the second day, my voice got hoarse for some reason. And on the third day, I began to be bullied by my peers."

"On the seventh day, I bled for the first time. I earned only three Tier 1 God Stones that day. On the nineteenth day, my crotch was hit, but I still persisted to earn money to treat father. I earned one Tier 1 God Stone that day." Cultivator took in a deep breath as he added, "On the twenty-second day, my right arm was broken. I earned 15 Tier 1 God Stones that day and bought some medicine for father."

"On the twenty-eighth day, both my hands were broken. I couldn't clench the thirty Tier 1 God Stones I earned that day and had to hold them in my mouth. And…" With a sigh, he uttered, "On the thirtieth day, all my limbs were broken while my jaw was dislocated. I was neither able to move nor able to make sounds. I made 150 Tier 1 God Stones and seven Tier 2 God Stones that day. But, it was father who had to pick them, along with my unconscious self."

"He blamed himself, reeling in self-torment for causing his son to suffer. After all, in order to cure him, his eight-year-old son had suffered abuse for a month and ended up in a coma at the end." Cultivator shed tears as he said that. "That was my last memory of my father. I had been in a coma after that for seven years. And, when I was fifteen years old, the day I woke up was when…"

"My father breathed his last."

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