Chen Xin looked at his expression and nodded knowingly. "See? You don't even know yourself. If a man isn't even clear about his own goal, then the blade in his hand is only a blade. It can never become 'intent.' Because 'intent' is where your heart points. It means knowing, with every slash, where that blade is meant to strike and why it must strike there."
"I... can't answer that yet," Jiang Che said honestly.
Jiang Che gave a self-mocking smile. This was the first time he had ever felt lost.
"That's exactly as it should be." Instead, Chen Xin looked pleased. "If you'd opened your mouth and given me some impassioned answer, I would have thought less of you. 'Intent' isn't something you talk into existence. Since you have no answer for now, take that question with you when you practice. Ask yourself every time you swing your blade. In time, the answer will surface on its own."
Jiang Che nodded, committing those words firmly to memory.
"No combat practice today." Chen Xin sat back down. "I'll explain my three understandings of Sword Intent. You can use them as a reference. There's no need to copy them wholesale, but some principles apply to both saber and sword."
Over the next two hours and more, Chen Xin slowly shared the insights he had gained from decades immersed in the way of the sword.
He began with the most fundamental concept: "momentum."
Sword Momentum was the seed of intent, a swordsman's control over the rhythm of battle, the presence that made an opponent wary before they even crossed blades. Then he spoke of "resonance." Sword Resonance was the sublimation of momentum, the natural transition between sword moves, flowing as seamlessly as water, making every stroke lay the groundwork for the next.