By now I lived ten years in this shitty world. Well, not shitty for me, though I did miss the convenience of the modern world. For all my grumbling I was happy just where I was. Sewing was just the kind of slow, boring job I wanted.

Thanks to my cultivation I easily had the coordination needed not to worry about fucking my work up, and thus was a great help for my mom. My cultivation had increased significantly over the last years, with nearly half of my meridians done. Not at the thickness I wanted them to be, but that’d come with time. By now, nearly a third of my skin was riddled with hair-thin crystalline meridians, purifying the ambient qi coming into contact with them.

I had to change my aura, of course, forcing qi in an unstable, upwards spiral around my body. A spiral that made sure the ambient qi affected by it only hit the part of my skin I wanted it to. Still, after all these years I couldn't help wondering where all this qi came from.

Hell, I vividly remembered the day I opened up to the world, several years ahead of my peers. Speaking about my peers - cultivators in this instance - they probably mostly awoke near my age, with ten, when they opened up to the world.

Which made today seem like a perfect time to officially awaken. Or any day in the last, and next months. But I felt ready today. I concentrated on the feelings I felt back then, the world had felt oh so significant, so empowering. And I pushed those feelings to the top of my mind, and on my face.

I paused my work for a few moments, tilted my head until I was sure mom noticed it, before continuing my work. Having to choose your own name sucked though. If your parents named you, you had that name and had to live with it. But doing so yourself? You had to find a name you were happy with, and a name that would hopefully fit for the rest of your life. And most cultivators probably wanted a name that could easily grow with them.

Not caring about getting a longer name opened up a lot of unique names for me luckily, one of which I felt connected to. Triss. My mother would not hear that name until dinner though. She’d immediately stop working, or make a mistake out of happiness her daughter achieved ‘greatness’. Pah, what nonsense.

Making a mistake now would be quite expensive, considering the silk the mortal merchant lady supplied to us, for a dress looking at much like a robe as possible without being one. Because only cultivators were allowed to wear robes. A stupid rule, who’d want the ‘privilege’ to wear a robe? More like punishment. Because I just knew mom was going to force me to leave pants and shirt behind and start wearing expensive robes.

We didn't take long to finish today's work, and mom started making dinner.

"Mom," I called out.

"Yes honey you did good today," she said.

"Mom, you can call me Triss from now on," I stated.

Mom whirled around, an elated smile on her face.

"You did it," she cried. "How, when, why didn't you tell me?"

"Today. I felt a wave of something pass through me while we were working, so I concentrated on that feeling, and I broke through," I answered. "And I knew you'd react like that, so I didn't say anything, that'd ruin the dress and silk."

Mom nodded but did something I had never seen her do before. She pouted!

"Berated by my ten-year-old daughter," mom grumbled. "And she is right. That's just not fair!"

"Don't talk to yourself mom," I said. “It’s embarrassing.”

But was ignored. Mom continued grumbling for a bit, and somehow found a bottle of something I knew I had not seen ever before.

She gave me a mug about a tenth full of the stuff but gave herself a third of the bottle.

"This calls for a drink," she said.

Mom took a small sip, so I copied her, knowing full well what would happen. The vile, bitter taste of bad, cheap alcohol entered my mouth and burned all the way down to my stomach.

I shot mom a betrayed look.

"Mom," I protested. "Do you want to kill me? What was that?"

She only laughed, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she took another sip. I matched her in spite of my feelings about the quality of that drink, seriously considering to change my profession to distilling alcohol. How hard could that be? I could surely do better than that though because that was quite literally the worst brew I ever had the displeasure of drinking. I glared at mom as she continued to sip on her drink and pointedly set the mug down in front of me, ignoring it. I wouldn't drink any more of that if I wasn't forced to. And that forcing would have to be quite insistent for me to give in.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"So, Triss. How does it feel, being a cultivator?" Mom asked with a smile.

“I don't know. Doesn't feel all that different,” I answered.

Mom’s eyes nearly popped out.

“How can you be so dismissive of your achievement! Only very few humans ever manage to break into the first realm! You have a name now honey!” She said, obviously excited.

“Yeah, yeah. Exciting,” I grumbled. “Everyone should have a name, it’s such a basic thing.”

“Don't say such a thing, we mortals can live without one just fine,” she said.

I could only shake my head at the extent of either fear or cultural indoctrination mom displayed there. It was kinda sad. Not that I could, or would do anything about it but grumble, I was just a simple seamstress’s apprentice after all.

“Mom,” I said seriously. “I hope you won't tell just about every customer about that. I still don't want to be a cultivator. I am fine with being a seamstress. I really am.”

“But cultivators are powerful beyond compare, they are more than normal people,” mom tried to convince me.

“They would also be naked people if we didn't make clothes for them,” I explained with a grin.

Mom spluttered, quickly suppressing a grin herself.

“That's not how you talk about your peers young lady! And that's not how I raised you!” She said. “Just because you are a cultivator now doesn't mean you can do what you want! She stressed, breaking her cultural bias for the first time I noticed.

“But I'm just a seamstress’s apprentice mom. I don't want to go out and fight beasts. Or humans. I actually don't like fighting at all,” I explained. “I don't understand why anyone would want to fight, especially at close range.”

“How would you fight otherwise?” Mom asked.

Wait what?

"How about throwing stuff at others really fast? It's not hard." I asked.

“I don't know anything about fighting myself Triss,” mom admitted, “But I’ve never seen someone use a weapon that did that. Perhaps some eccentric cultivators are using weapons like that somewhere, but ranged weapons are not common.” She explained.

Strange. But weapons were mainly force-enhancers, so if you could not get enough of your own force behind an attack it wouldn't be worth it.

Still, a sling should be a very useful weapon for cultivators. Well, I hoped I would never have to find out. Perhaps cultivators used qi to attack in the distance somehow? Stop it. I shouldn't let mom’s dreams affect me as much. Bad Triss.

“Good to know I guess. So when is the lady coming back?” I asked.

“Don't worry about it. She’ll probably be here tomorrow, merchants like her have a knack of being at the right place at the right time,” she explained.

“How do you know that?” I asked. “That's not something I’ve ever heard about.”

“Your father told me about it,” mom admitted.

“My father? Tell me about him,” I asked.

A pained, conflicted look entered mom’s face for a moment before she straightened up.

“Are you sure? There are really only two things you need to know about your father,” she asked.

“Yes. Tell me,” I answered.

“Very well. He was a powerful cultivator and is dead,” she said,

“Come on mom, don't just stop there!” I complained.

“Fine, fine. I just don't like to talk about him. Those times are filled with painful memories. As I already told you, your father was a cultivator just like you are. But he was powerful, very powerful. When we met he was already gathering qi to break into the third realm for nearly half a decade, which is impressive considering his circumstances.

I don't know much about his past, but do know he was hunted before we met. By who, I don't know. Our first meeting didn't go well, your father entered my shop, bloody, and told me to dress his wounds if I wanted to live.

I agreed, of course, I didn't want to die.”

“My father threatened your life?” I asked. “How did I come to be then?”

“Well, we didn't get off on a good foot at first, and it didn't get better at first. He decided to hide in the back of my shop until he healed, and there was nothing I could do about it. His wounds were severe and poisoned, or so he told me later.

Anyways. Living with the same person for months brings you together, and soon enough I was pregnant with you. Soon after that, his pursuers caught up with him, and they fought it out, destroying my old shop in the process.

I saw your father get killed right in front of me,” mom sobbed once, before continuing. “At the time I felt devastated, but we really didn't know each other for long, and to them, I was just another irrelevant mortal. I didn't know what to do with myself back then, but you forced me to look forwards, so I packed all my surviving gear and moved to start somewhere new.

Back then the mayor had only recently taken over and was making some significant changes to the village. When I entered the village on my way to the city he had one of his underlings offer me a house to stay in return for my work for the village. I agreed of course, as my chances in the city were dim at best, which made that chance the best I would ever get.

And I was right to trust into the mayor, just look at the town now! It’s ten times the size it was over ten years ago, the people are wealthy, and we did not have a single problem with food!”

What a story. Luckily mom was still alive.

Still, my father was hunted? What did he do?

I had no way to know, and investigating the death of a random stranger, whatever familial relations we had was not something I had any interest in. I was glad I didn't have to meet the guy! Because if we did meet? I’d have some serious words with the creep!

“Thanks for telling me mommy,” I said and got up to hug her, the tears in her eyes belying her previous words. She very much missed him still. Mom hugged me back, pressing me against her chest, tears dropping on my hair.

“Don't be sad mommy, you still have me,” I said, trying to console her.

“I do. And you won't ever leave me,” mom sobbed.

“Don't worry, I promise I won't,” I said.

After mom calmed down we had a very nice dinner as I tried to describe her how I felt qi, but you really had to feel it yourself. It probably was like trying to explain hearing to a deaf person. But still, it was a good distraction for her. I would sleep in her bed just in case though.