Oh no! My grandmother made me shoulder the responsibility for eight households!

Chapter 356 The Wise Mentors

Lin Chen flicked his finger, and a pebble fell into his hand, which he weighed in his hand.

"What kind of martial arts do you practice?"

Murong Yun thought for a moment: "What we practice is cultivation, techniques, and true energy."

Lin Chen shook his head: "No, that's technique, not the way."

As he spoke, Lin Chen tossed a pebble into the air. The pebble didn't fly very high, but it paused in the air for a moment.

In that instant, everyone felt a strange sensation.

Like that pebble, it has developed its own will.

Then the pebble fell and landed steadily in Lin Chen's palm.

"What did you sense just now?" Lin Chen asked casually.

A military officer scratched his head: "It feels... like that pebble has come to life?"

"Yes." Lin Chen nodded.

"That's the realm of understanding. Cultivation at the grandmaster level and above isn't about who has the greatest strength or the most internal energy; it's about how deep your understanding of this world is."

Lin Chen pointed to the sky, then to the ground:

Between heaven and earth, there is qi, momentum, law, and the way.

You can only reach the level of understanding you have.

The difference between a Grandmaster, a Great Grandmaster, and someone above the Celestial Realm is not a difference in the amount of true energy, but a difference in their understanding of the Way of Heaven and Earth.

"The reason why the Grand Preceptor was able to break through today is not because he punched harder, but because he relaxed his mind and achieved a breakthrough in his mental state."

Meng Chi nodded thoughtfully, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

Lin Chen looked at Murong Yun and asked calmly:

"Brother, how long have you been stuck at the First Grade Realm?"

Murong Yun said embarrassedly, "It's been a year."

Do you know why?

"...Not talented enough?"

"No," Lin Chen shook his head, "You're too proper."

The techniques you practice, every move is exactly as written in the book, not a bit more, not a bit less.

But have you ever considered what the author of this book intended? Are you imitating its form, or its spirit?

Murong Yun was stunned.

He had practiced martial arts for so many years and always thought that practicing the moves correctly and precisely was the right thing to do.

But now that Lin Chen asked him this, he suddenly felt that something was indeed missing.

"When you practice a move, don't think about how to execute it, think about why you should execute it that way," Lin Chen said with a smile.

"When you figure it out, you'll naturally break through."

Murong Yun stood there, his brows furrowed, muttering to himself:

"Why fight like this... why fight like this..."

Suddenly, his eyes lit up, as if he had thought of something, but before he could think about it, he was pushed aside by the military officer next to him.

A swordsman approached, clasped his hands in greeting, and said:

"Your Highness, I have practiced swordsmanship for twenty years, but I still haven't grasped the essence of it. Could you please offer some guidance?"

Lin Chen glanced at him: "What kind of swordsmanship do you practice?"

"The Mad Blade of Nanzhao".

"Show me a move."

The general took a deep breath and drew his sword—a flash of light, carrying a sharp blade aura, slashed a three-foot-long gash in the ground, sending shards of stone flying.

Lin Chen nodded: "The sword is a good sword, and the swordsmanship is also good, but your problem is the same as Brother Murong's—you are too concerned about the sword."

The military officer was taken aback: "Too concerned about the sword?"

"Yes! When you draw your knife, you are thinking, 'I'm going to make this a good strike,' so all your attention is on the knife."

But you forgot one thing—the knife is the hand, and the hand is you. You don't need to "strike" the knife perfectly; you just need to let the knife flow from your heart.

The general was stunned, looking down at the sword in his hand.

"You've practiced with a knife for twenty years, and the knife has become your instinct. What you need to do now is not to practice even more, but to forget how you practiced."

Let the knife lead you, not the other way around.

The general nodded as if he understood, closed his eyes, and tried to relax—then slashed out with his sword.

This strike wasn't as sharp or as fast as before.

But everyone sensed that there was something in that slash.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something there.

It was like a knife containing a person's emotions, heavy and weighty.

The general opened his eyes, looked at the sword in his hand, and his eyes reddened.

"Your Highness... I just felt it, the knife... it seemed to be talking to me."

Lin Chen chuckled lightly: "That's not the knife talking to you, it's your heart talking to you."

You've practiced the sword for twenty years; every strike carries your emotions, your experiences, and your destiny.

You didn't notice it before, but you noticed it today—that's the starting point of artistic conception.

The military officer clasped his hands in a fist salute, his voice so loud it made the lanterns on the corridor pillars sway:

"Thank you very much, Your Highness, for your guidance and understanding!"

Lin Chen waved his hand calmly: "Keep practicing. Remember, don't think, just feel."

Several military officers were so excited that they stepped forward one after another to ask for advice.

Lin Chen wasn't bothered and gave instructions one by one.

It's not about teaching them how to modify their moves or how to adjust their power.

Those skills, once mastered to their level, no longer need to be taught.

What Lin Chen taught them was how to "see" their own martial arts.

Everyone walks a different path, and their perspectives on the meaning are also different.

Some are knives, some are swords, and some are fists.

What Lin Chen did was not to point out a path for them, but to help them see the path they were on.

Murong Hong stood by and watched for a long time before finally unable to resist coming over to ask a few questions.

He practices swordsmanship, but his style is more agile and nimble, quite different from the fierce and powerful martial arts of Nanzhao. He focuses more on speed and change than strength.

"Your Highness, I have been practicing swordsmanship for nearly thirty years, and I have always felt that I am lacking something, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is."

After hearing his question, Lin Chen asked a question:

"Is speed or accuracy more important in your swordsmanship?"

Murong Hong was taken aback: "Aren't they all important?"

"What if you can only choose one?"

Murong Hong opened his mouth, but couldn't answer.

Lin Chen shook his head and chuckled: "See, that's your problem."

You've always wanted to be both fast and accurate, but at your current level, these two things are in conflict.

The more you try to be fast, the less accurate you become; the more you try to be accurate, the less fast you can be.

You have to put one thing aside first, perfect the other, and then turn back.

Murong Hong nodded thoughtfully, gestured a couple of times with his hands, and his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

"I understand. I've been trying to have the best of both worlds, but I've ended up pleasing neither side. I should focus on maximizing my speed first, and I can work on improving my accuracy later."

"Yes, extreme speed is a form of accuracy in itself, because when you're so fast that the opponent doesn't have time to react, you can hit anywhere with precision."

Murong Hong laughed heartily, clasped his hands in a fist and said, "Thank you, Your Highness! I'll treat you to drinks another day!"

Lin Chen smiled and nodded: "Okay, prepare the wine."

After the crowd dispersed, the square gradually quieted down.

The night breeze blows down from the mountain, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees.

The moon was high in the sky, hanging above the temple and illuminating the white palace walls.

Lin Chen stood at the edge of the square, looking at the moon.

Lan Fenghuang walked over and asked softly, "Are you tired?"

"Not tired!" Lin Chen smiled.

"Giving pointers to a few people is much easier than getting into a fight."

"I did take in a few things you said earlier." Lan Fenghuang leaned against Lin Chen and looked up at the moon.

"Artistic conception isn't something you can practice; it's something you experience, right?"

Lin Chen chuckled softly: "That's right, what you said is more useful than those military generals practicing for ten years."

Lan Fenghuang laughed and pinched Lin Chen: "Come on, you're just trying to sweet-talk me."

"I'm serious," Lin Chen said earnestly.

"Your talent was originally higher than theirs, but you just never pursued that path. If you had cultivated martial arts, your cultivation level would definitely be higher than it is now."

Blue Phoenix shook her head:

"I don't like fighting and killing. I grew up in the temple and learned Gu magic... Never mind, let's not talk about this."

She glanced at the distant temple, her gaze lingered for a moment, then returned to it.

Lin Chen noticed Lan Fenghuang's gaze, put his arm around her shoulder, and whispered:

"Now that you're home, go back and see the High Priest; he's been waiting for you!"

Lin Chen's divine sense had long ago detected that the high priest in the temple was keeping his eyes fixed on the royal palace.