To articulate the truth of my thoughts, I too began to ponder the question...
Intention is the embodiment of thought.
Sword Intent is the embodiment of one's thoughts about the path of the sword.
Viewing everything as material—this is the obstacle itself.
If we believe that Sword Intent is merely a powerful force we control like sword aura, we will never surpass that obstacle.
It is called "intent" because it is intent—not something tangible.
"Then tell me... what is Sword Intent to you?"
I looked straight at him, my eyes searching for something behind his calm gaze.
"What is Sword Intent... to me?"
He paused, as if the question had taken him back years into the past.
"I don't want a fighter's answer... but the answer of a man who's carried a sword long enough to be forced to question it."
He gave a slight nod and ran his fingers gently along the edge of his blade, as if recalling an old memory...
Then whispered without lifting his eyes:
"Sword Intent..."
"Is the desire to understand... before it is the desire to fight."
He fell silent for a moment, then continued:
"At first, I thought it was a means to dominate.
Then it became a shield to protect what I wanted...
But now?"
He raised his gaze to me, and his eyes no longer resembled those of the warrior I had just fought.
"Now, I think Sword Intent... is how one speaks to the world with their sword, when words are no longer enough."
The moment he answered, his sword began to tremble by itself...
SHIVER...
I smiled—joyful on his behalf—and began to tell an old tale, even as he remained unaware of what was happening to his blade.
"It is said… long ago, when a swordsman broke through a towering wall that hindered his path,
he heard the cry of a child…
A cry both sorrowful and joyous at once.
That cry came from the sword that had accompanied him for years on his journey."
The Sword Saint felt his sword resonate as he held it in his hands—a resonance strong enough to shatter steel, yet soft enough to melt frozen hearts.
"Why...? Why do I hear my dear sword crying...?
Why does this deep sorrow toward it swell suddenly within me?"
I glanced at his sword... and a tear fell from my eye before I even realized it.
The same for the Sword Saint—tears streamed down his cheeks, unstoppable.
"Do you see it?
Your sword is magnificent—so magnificent and proud to have walked beside you all these years without pause.
But in facing its own heart, all it can feel... is regret.
Regret that it couldn't help you grow beyond,
To the level of the Sword's Heart."
The Sword Saint lowered his head, unable to face his blade—afraid, perhaps, to see it crying.
He gripped it—not as a weapon,
but as a friend he had neglected to listen to for too long.
"The... Heart of the Sword?"
He whispered, the words caught in his throat as if they weighed more than steel.
I replied calmly,
"Yes... The Heart of the Sword is not born of strength,
But of honesty... and the trust you place in your sword.
When your blade sees that you no longer just wield it, but understand it...
Only then... does it cry."
And still, his sword trembled—not out of fear, but gratitude.
---
It took time...
Hours passed, as if they were an entire lifetime.
His sword continued to shake in his hands—not like a tool that had lost its balance, but like a heart that had broken into tears after a long silence.
And the Sword Saint... said nothing.
He just sat there, eyes locked on the trembling sword,
as if he were seeing his past—
or perhaps, himself.
Maybe, for the first time,
he began to understand something that had always eluded his heart.
〔The Sword's Heart〕
"The swordsman and the sword… their relationship has never been equal.
The swordsman decides.
The sword obeys.
But the pinnacle of the sword's path…
does not lie in control, but in dissolution."
I looked at him, my tone now calm and filled with certainty:
"When the sword becomes the one with form,
And the swordsman becomes the formless one…
Only then is the sword given the right to choose—
When to be drawn, when to cut, when to take… and when to forgive."
I paused for a moment, then added...
"That is the Heart of the Sword…
And in other ages,
it was called the Path of the Nihilism Sword."
A breeze passed by, light and respectful—
as if even the wind paused to honor this newfound understanding.
And the Sword Saint, for the first time,
did not look like a saint.
But rather, like a child discovering that the sword had never been just a weapon…
but a soul waiting to be understood.
---
He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his robe, and smiled shyly,
as if his tears were embarrassed to be seen.
He spoke gently, breaking the silence:
"I never imagined... my sword would scold me one day."
Then he looked at me—
not with defiance,
but with honest respect.
"I thought you were just an arrogant talent…
But it seems you carry something far deeper than skill."
I smiled faintly and gave no reply.
Instead, I walked calmly to the center of the battlefield,
where there was no shade, no shelter.
I raised my hand to the sky…
and a new sword appeared.
It was neither ancient nor radiant—
but simple,
and pulsing with something unseen.
I spoke clearly,
as the wind stirred around me...
"Now it's my turn…
To show you that I didn't just carry it…
I listened to it."
The Sword Saint sat aside—this time, not as an opponent,
But as one awaiting the birth of a sacred moment…
with calm eyes, and an open heart.
Like an elder brother, proud of his younger sibling.
From afar, the sword seemed like any ordinary iron blade…
But its soul betrayed its simplicity.
It felt like a newborn child—
overjoyed to enter the world,
So excited it danced,
yet resisted being held by my hands.
The Sword Saint, watching from afar,
could not take his eyes off the blade.
For in the very first moment—
he realized this wasn't a sword.
It was something greater.
In a shaky voice, he asked...
"Are my eyes… truly seeing this?"
A genius like the Sword Saint had just reached the understanding of the Heart of the Sword…
And yet what I showed him…
surpassed even that.
"The sword's path is infinite,
Because there exists an unreachable pinnacle...
The sword's path is infinite,
Because it contradicts itself...
The sword's path is infinite…
So then, why does it have a pinnacle?"
Three phrases,
each spilling from my tongue without conscious thought.
And within them,
lay two of the deepest truths of the sword.
The Sword Saint grasped them intuitively…
and echoed softly...
"The sword's path has no bounds…
Yet its bounds can be sensed…"
"Yes. One of the few bounds you can grasp along this infinite path is..."
The Sword of Mind
The Sword of Soul
The Sword of the World
The Sword of Mountains and Rivers
The Sword of Heaven and Earth
The Sword of the Emperor
The Union of Sword and Flesh
The Sword of Cause and Effect
The pinnacle of the sword—
Call it whatever you like, so long as you grasp it…
But—
Once you do…
there will be nothing left that you cannot cut.
Not even this Realm itself~