I'd say you'd be pretty smart to stop while you're ahead. You may be my son but I've no qualms with making you pay the consequences for attacking me like that. As a matter of fact, that's the only reason why I'm not blasting you into oblivion right about now. [Because really, he doesn't see this fight as training, or even a real fight at all. He sees this as a temper tantrum. And he's pretty pissy about it now.]

Get up. I'm going home, since you're not interested in anything I've got to say unless I'm catering to your pitiful self-conceived notions of what you think are true that you let bind you to this state of uncertainty and despair.