Chapter Ninety-One: Mist. Martial? Enlightenment!

The moment that impossible feat was done, Chen Hao could no longer keep his composure. It was nothing short of miraculous; without ever touching the firewood, he had split it cleanly in two. Was this some sort of joke? Could the elderly abbot of the Shaolin monastery possibly be performing a magic trick?

Suspicion filled Chen Hao’s mind. He very much wanted to see the old abbot repeat that motion once more. By the pattern he had shown before, whenever the old abbot used one method of splitting wood, he would usually demonstrate it several times. So Chen Hao hoped to observe again exactly how he could split the wood in half without touching it.

But unfortunately, this time was an exception. The old abbot’s astounding wood-splitting trick was shown only once, and then he stopped, returning instead to the table where the two of them sat.

As if he had known all along that the old abbot would do it only once, Chen Ding'an had already brewed tea for him the instant the movement ceased, and respectfully placed it before him.

The old abbot intoned a Buddhist phrase in thanks, then took the cup and sipped. After drinking the tea, he did not speak. Instead, he picked up the teapot himself and poured another cup for himself, all the while turning the motion toward Chen Hao as though to let him watch more closely.

At this point, Chen Hao was still regretting that he could not witness that extraordinary feat again, and his curiosity remained unfulfilled, leaving him a little distracted. Of course, the main reason was still the shock caused by the old abbot’s earlier display.

Even if that distant wood-splitting trick had been mere illusion, the old abbot’s earlier act of splitting wood with nothing but a sheet of paper and a willow leaf had already filled Chen Hao’s heart with deep reverence.

When the old abbot poured the tea, Chen Hao did not pay much attention at first; he was still savoring the scene from before. But as the old man tilted the teapot, Chen Hao suddenly noticed a faint tremor in his wrist once more.

That tiny detail made Chen Hao’s eyes light up. Earlier, when the old abbot had split the wood, the two were separated by some distance, so Chen Hao had not seen clearly. Now, being so close, he could observe every subtle movement with ease. And from this observation, he noticed something else.

From afar, Chen Hao had thought the old abbot’s wrist had only trembled once. But up close, he saw that it was different: the wrist did not twitch merely a few times, but many times, so many that they could not be counted.

Those slight tremors all followed the same rhythm. It was only because they were so fast, so fast that they nearly merged into a blurred afterimage, that Chen Hao had mistaken them for a single motion.

So it seemed he had still not observed carefully enough. Yet this only deepened his admiration. How could a wrist tremble so many times in such an absurdly short span of time? How had he done it?

More than that, not only was the rhythm identical, but even the amplitude of each tremor remained perfectly consistent, not off by the slightest degree. Otherwise, Chen Hao would have noticed the number of movements long ago. It was truly astonishing.

But then why, just to pour a cup of tea, did the old abbot have to do this? Was he worried Chen Hao had not seen clearly before, and so deliberately showing him again?

Just as Chen Hao was puzzled and about to ask, he heard a strange sound. It was like the crack of some vessel breaking, and it seemed to come from the teacup before the old abbot.

Chen Hao lowered his head and looked toward the tabletop.

Indeed, after the old abbot’s cup had been filled, a fine crack had appeared in it. As more tea was poured in, the crack widened and spread. By the time the cup was filled to the brim, the old abbot had also stopped moving. At that very moment, the cup on the table shattered completely.

Chen Hao stared blankly at the shattered cup, not even noticing that tea had spilled onto him. At that moment, he no longer knew how to describe his feelings. Beyond confusion and doubt, only one word remained in his heart: admiration.

Seeing Chen Hao fall into deep thought, the old abbot merely smiled faintly and, like Chen Ding'an, did not speak to disturb him. Chen Hao was no longer simply stunned; he was now carefully recalling every movement the old abbot had made, hoping to find even the smallest thing he could learn by observing and remembering on his own.

From beginning to end, neither the old abbot nor Chen Ding'an said a single word. This was not because they were stingy with instruction or unwilling to teach Chen Hao. Rather, both believed that allowing Chen Hao to think and understand for himself was the best and most effective way for him to improve.

Though every school of martial arts had its own methods, as the saying goes, the master opens the door, but the practice depends on the student. Everyone interprets the same martial art differently, just as there are a hundred Hamlets for a hundred people.

What suited the old abbot or Chen Ding'an would not necessarily suit Chen Hao. He needed to find and carve out a path of his own. The door had already been opened for him; how far he could walk would depend mainly on himself.

In such a short time, Chen Hao could not grasp the key. And since he was still just a child, there were many things he could not understand. Yet today’s demonstration had unknowingly laid a fine foundation for him and broadened his horizons.

This was also why Chen Ding'an had taken Chen Hao to visit great masters all these years: only by seeing much can one broaden one’s vision. As the old saying goes, to know the mountains and the tigers, one must first have seen mountains and tigers. Otherwise, at best, one can imitate the shape, but never attain the spirit.

These truths were naturally beyond Chen Hao’s years, and neither Chen Ding'an nor the old abbot would spell them out for him. Everything depended on enlightenment.

Chen Hao did not sit there in a daze for long. After thinking for a while, it seemed he suddenly remembered something. With a jolt, he jumped down from his chair and, without greeting either of them, rushed straight to the firewood the old abbot had split.

He picked up the two halves of the log that had been split by hand and weighed them separately. Then Chen Hao was astonished to discover that the two halves weighed exactly the same.

He truly did not know how to describe his feelings anymore. This was no neatly shaped round log. Its surface was rough and uneven, not something with any regular form at all. It had not been processed beforehand; it was entirely natural firewood.

Wood like that could not simply be split down the middle and expected to produce two equal halves in weight. What kind of precision calculation would that require? Even with proper tools and precise instruments, no one could claim with certainty that it could be done.

Yet the old abbot had accomplished, with nothing more than a hand’s estimate and a glance, what even machines could not do.

While Chen Hao was drawing his own conclusions, the old abbot and Chen Ding'an remained silent, though another exchange was unfolding between them.

In age, status, and martial accomplishment, the old abbot far surpassed Chen Ding'an, so their exchanges were mostly the old abbot guiding Chen Ding'an.

Chen Ding'an had brought Chen Hao to see the old abbot this time primarily so the boy could broaden his horizons, but he also hoped to receive some guidance himself.

However, it was unclear whether the old abbot simply was not skilled in words, for his guidance did not come through speech, but through action.

The last time the two of them met was when Chen Ding'an was still a child. So many years had passed, and both had improved in their own ways. The best way to understand each other’s strength was, without doubt, to spar.

But Chen Ding'an knew very well that even though he had made great progress over the years, he was still far from the old abbot. At the very least, the hand of empty-handed wood-splitting the old abbot had just displayed was something he could never do. Let alone splitting wood from a distance, he could not even split it with a sheet of paper. Much less could he make every piece of firewood split into two halves of equal weight.

So Chen Ding'an did not overestimate himself by challenging the old abbot directly. Instead, he used the teacups on the table to seek instruction through subtle exchange.

Because the old abbot’s cup had already been damaged while demonstrating his skill to Chen Hao, Chen Ding'an fetched a new cup and set it before him, then lifted the teapot and slowly poured tea.

The old abbot then moved as well. He reached out one hand to steady the cup and applied the slightest force. With one hand supporting it, he slowly slid the cup across the tabletop.

Though the movement seemed unbearably slow, to Chen Ding'an it was incredibly difficult to catch the cup’s trajectory; he could only chase the line of the old man’s arm a half-beat behind.

Yes, chase the arm, because Chen Ding'an found that he could not determine the cup’s position simply by observing its movement. The cup was plainly right before his eyes, seen so clearly, yet the moment he tried to capture its position, it became so difficult.

As more and more tea filled the cup, sweat gathered more and more on Chen Ding'an’s brow, and the cup’s movement became harder and harder to follow. Just as the tea was about to reach the brim, he finally failed to keep up with the motion and spilled tea across the table.

The old abbot stopped, brushed the tea from the tabletop with his sleeve, and smiled faintly. “Lay practitioner Chen, you have improved quite a bit. Your progress exceeds my estimate of you. Truly, worthy of the Chen family’s bloodline.”

Faced with the praise, Chen Ding'an could only give a wry smile. “But compared with you, Master, I still fall far short. If you had not held back just now, perhaps the instant the tea touched the cup, I would already have lost.”

The old abbot did not dispute Chen Ding'an’s flattery; instead, he accepted it calmly and said, “Time is a man’s best teacher. If you could settle your mind and devote yourself to martial study as your father and I did, your attainments would not be beneath ours. All depends on enlightenment.”

Having said this, the old abbot once again intoned a Buddhist phrase, then rose from his seat and departed, leaving father and son each sunk in thought.