Martial Cultivator-Novel

After winter passed, Ancient Creek Town welcomed spring.

The townsfolk went to the government office to collect this year's calendar and then hung it in their respective homes. It was now the fifteenth year of Tianjian, the fifteenth year since His Majesty the Emperor ascended the throne.

Everything was rejuvenated.

In recent days, the townsfolk heard that a young daoist from the daoist temple on the mountain behind the town often wrote safety talismans at the foot of the mountain and gave them to the people. So, many people occasionally went there hoping to meet that kind-hearted daoist and request a safety talisman to ensure their family's safety.

However, in reality, this town was already one of the few peaceful places in the world. There were no demons here preying on people. But people were never satisfied; without demons, they wished for good weather every year so that there would be enough food. With enough food, they wished they did not have to pay taxes. Without taxes, they even wished they did not have to farm and still have enough food.

The human heart would never be satisfied.

Perhaps it was because the daoist who wrote the safety talismans had been writing too many of them, or perhaps it was just a passing fancy for him. During these days, the villagers did not see the young daoist at the foot of the mountain, and thus could not obtain any more safety talismans.

Although the villagers were somewhat discontented, no one dared to go up the mountain to demand an explanation. After all, that mountain was not a place where anyone could go.

The daoists there were not to be trifled with.

Ever since hearing about this matter, there was a young child who had been squatting at the foot of the mountain every day for the past few days. Starting from before dawn, he would leave the dilapidated courtyard and arrive at a bluestone rock at the foot of the back mountain, hoping to see the figure of the young daoist. However, for several consecutive days, he failed to see the young daoist, inevitably feeling disappointed. Nevertheless, even so, he still came here every day, waiting for a day, eating the cold rice ball when hungry, and drinking a sip of mountain spring water when thirsty. Yet day after day, he failed to see the young daoist he wanted to see, and the child's heart was becoming more and more disappointed with each passing day.

He had considered going up the mountain directly, but hearing what the adults in the town said, this seemingly ordinary mountain was inhabited by a group of immortals. No matter how they tried to go up the mountain, they could not ascend it. He had gritted his teeth and tried a few times before, but the result was just as the adults said. He walked around in circles and could not go up the mountain. Later, he stopped trying and instead occasionally came to the foot of the mountain to try his luck, hoping to encounter the immortals on the mountain. However, he had no success. Just when he was about to give up, the rumors in the town gave him hope again. Unfortunately, after these days passed, he was still the same as before, not even encountering a single daoist.

As dusk fell, with no one in sight at the foot of the mountain, the child had no choice but to drink some mountain spring water to ease the hunger pangs in his stomach that were growling incessantly. Then, he slowly turned and began to slowly walk back towards the town enveloped in the darkness of night.

It took the child nearly an hour to return to the town entrance. Near the gate, there was a small stall selling buns, and the stall owner was just closing up. Seeing the child walking dejectedly from a distance, the stall owner smiled and asked, "Didn't encounter any immortals again today?"

The child responded listlessly with an "mmm," then said, "Uncle Mo, are you closing up shop? Do you need any help?"

Uncle Mo waved his hand, "It's just putting up a few wooden planks, what help can you offer, child?"

Hearing him call him a child, the kid said seriously, "It's not like that. My mother says that once I turn seven, I'll be an adult. Now, even she relies on me!"

Hearing the child talk about his mother, Uncle Mo let out a sigh, then took out some leftover buns from the steamer, about seven or eight of them. After putting them in a cloth bag, he came over to the child and handed them to him, sighing, "Business was slow today, and there are some buns left unsold. Do me a favor and dispose of them. Leftover buns can't be sold the next day."

The child listened but did not extend his hands. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Uncle Mo, my mother says I can't help you anymore."

Uncle Mo was taken aback and said, "Your mother found out?" "Take them, you got to at least fill your stomach, no?"

The child shook his head again and took a step back. After giving a bow, he said, "Mother will get angry."The source of thɪs content is Novᴇ(l)Fɪre .ɴᴇt

The man who had been using this method to help this pair of mother and son, who depended on each other, felt somewhat helpless hearing this. "Your mother's stubborn temper. It's been so many years, and even your lives have become like this, why hasn't she changed?"

The child shook his head. How would he know about such things?

Uncle Mo said softly again, "How about you eat a few first? You're still young and growing. If you don't tell your mother, she won't know."

The child shook his head once more, repeating, "Mother will get angry if she finds out."

After saying this, the child ran ahead, shouting as he ran, "Uncle Mo, see you tomorrow!"

The man watched the child's back view, sighed, and did not say anything more. Everyone had their own troubles in this world, and there was nothing he could do about it.

……

……

The child ran all the way to the end of the street before stopping to catch his breath. Remembering the large meat bun he had seen earlier, he could not help licking his lips. But then he thought of how angry his mother would be. In the end, he did not turn his head to look at the shop that he knew he could not see anymore.

After resting for a moment at the street corner, the child entered a narrow alley and walked to the end where a dilapidated courtyard stood. He pushed open the peeling, old wooden door and called out for his mother.

The courtyard paved with stone slabs was clean and tidy. A water vat sat quietly in the center of the courtyard, reflecting the moonlight.

Inside the house, a faint light illuminated the room, and through the window screen, a blurry figure could be vaguely seen.

The child pushed open the door, then quickly closed it again. He looked towards the woman lying on the bed in the room. Her face was pale, and she looked so frail that a gust of wind could blow her away. As she watched the child walk in, her lifeless face gained a bit of vitality. "Today is your first day of school. Did you pay attention in class?"

A hint of imperceptible panic flashed across the child's face, and he quickly said, "The teacher praised me, said I'm smart, and I'll definitely become a top scholar in the future!"

The woman coughed twice, an abnormal flush suddenly appearing on her face. The child immediately climbed onto the bed and gently patted his mother's back. When the woman regained her composure, she mustered up her spirits and said, "Becoming a top scholar would be great. At least you'll have a future ahead of you. You can become a teacher. In your lifetime, even if I'm not around, you won't go hungry."

The woman had no particular feelings towards scholars, but she insisted on sending her son to school no matter what, hoping for one thing: that after she passed away, her son would be able to earn a living protected from wind and rain.

The child quickly retorted, "Mother, don't talk nonsense. You still have to watch me grow up." The woman caressed her son's head lovingly and said softly, "Yes, I still have to watch my A'Bao grow up."

Seeing that his mother was feeling better, the child immediately jumped off the bed. "Mother, are you hungry? I'll cook. Just wait for me."

The woman said softly, "I'm not hungry."

The child ignored her and quickly ran to the kitchen area. He scooped out a small bowl of yellowed broken rice from the nearly empty rice bin, then fetched a large bowl of water from the courtyard's water vat and poured it into the pot.

After doing all this, he did not rush to light the fire for cooking. Instead, he untied his outer garment and took out a cloth bag from his embrace. Opening the bag, he emptied out the yellowed broken rice inside. This was the cheapest stale grain in town. But even so, the amount poured out from his bag barely filled a third of the already small rice bin.

Hearing the movements from the kitchen area, the woman asked weakly, "Is there no more rice?"

The child put away the cloth bag and replied loudly, "Mother, there's still plenty left; enough for a while."

Soon, the child brought over two bowls of watery porridge. However, even though both bowls were watery, it was visibly clear that one bowl was much thicker than the other.

Pushing the thicker bowl towards his mother, the child picked up his own bowl to drink. The woman said with some unhappiness, "I've already said I'm not hungry. If you keep doing this, I'm going to get angry."

The child raised his head and said, "I'm not hungry either. That rice ball from noon is still filling me up to the throat."

The child gestured, looking somewhat comical.

The woman's expression turned serious. "Did you take Mr. Mo's buns again?"

"Didn't I tell you, you should have backbone as a person? Why don't you listen?"

Seeing his mother's expression turned solemn, the child quickly waved his hands, "No, when I got back, Uncle Mo had already closed up."

"Then why can't you finish a bowl of porridge?"

The woman stared at her son, who looked somewhat aggrieved as he replied softly, "I really didn't."

Only then did the woman reach out and take the watery porridge from her son's hand, sighing softly as she said, "Mother knows what you're thinking, but you're still growing. Moreover, you still have to attend classes at school during the day, how can you not eat?"

In the end, the woman still passed her bowl of porridge to her son and just looked at her son lovingly. How could she not know that her days were numbered? But she could not bring herself to address this elephant in the room. She could not bear the thought of what would become of her son after she was gone.

If the heavens were merciful and granted her more time, no matter how difficult or tiring it would be, she just wanted to see her child grow up.

The child backed down, but still stubbornly poured half of his own porridge into his mother's bowl. Then, he watched her finish her portion before he drank his.

After dinner, the woman retired early to bed. Once she fell asleep, the child quietly slipped out, sitting on the steps under the eaves, holding his knees tightly. He gazed at the full moon in the sky.

Afraid of waking his mother, he did not dare to cry aloud. Instead, tears welled up in the child's eyes as he sobbed softly, his gaze fixed on the round full moon above as he muttered, "Father, I miss you."