"Master, do I have to chop wood again today? I'm already chopping it very finely!" Ronnie ran to Chambers' room, somewhat dissatisfied.
"Chop, keep chopping, you still have a long way to go." Chambers didn't look at him, turning over in bed. Since Ronnie arrived, his life had become much easier. He didn't have to do any of the heavy work; all he needed to do was cook three meals a day for Ronnie.
"But Master, when will I ever finish chopping wood?" Chopping wood every day for a whole year—no one could endure that.
"Finished? Finished is easy! You're chopping it finely enough now, but it's not even enough. When you can chop all the wood into pieces of the same thickness, then you'll be done." Chambers wasn't in a hurry at all. He smacked his lips twice and went back to sleep.
The word "even" reminded Ronnie of the magical power within him. With the help of the Ice Goddess Stone and the Fire God Stone, his magical progress had been extremely rapid this past year. Now he understood why his father had become a mage at only thirty-seven years old—it was probably due to the Fire God Stone. However, a problem also loomed before him. Initially, he only felt a superficial sensation—one side of his body was cool while the other was hot. But now, the temperatures on both sides of his body were noticeably different. Immersing his left side in water could even create ice water, while his right side was burning hot, as if he had a high fever. This constant temperature difference often made Ronnie feel dizzy. This feeling became even more pronounced when he used magic, causing an uneven distribution of magical power between his two sides. Therefore, later, when using magic, he had to use an equal amount of water magic in addition to an ice spell to ensure that the magical power consumption was exactly the same, in order to avoid any negative effects.
Ronnie didn't tell Chambers about this situation. Driven by revenge, he knew that continuing like this might be dangerous, but he still trained relentlessly. He believed that as long as his magical power remained even, there wouldn't be any problems. But was that really the case? Even a demigod probably couldn't give him an answer. After all, no one dared to risk practicing two completely opposite types of magic anymore.
Reluctantly, Ronnie walked into the yard, pulled over a small wooden stool, and sat down. He grabbed the wood-chopping knife with his left hand and placed the firewood in front of him with his right. As soon as he handed the knife to his right hand, Ronnie's eyes changed, becoming unusually focused. His mind was completely concentrated on the firewood before him, its grain clearly scanned in his mind. He didn't move, simply observing the wood quietly. Chambers had taught him that only by striking at the most opportune moment could he achieve the best effect; the most opportune moment was the moment he had complete control over the firewood before him.
His hand flipped, the knife moved, eight consecutive strikes, as fluid as flowing water, without the slightest hesitation. The firewood remained standing there, unmoved, the sharp knife reflecting a metallic luster in the sunlight.
*Pfft*, Ronnie blew on the firewood, and the outer bark swayed to either side, transforming the entire log into a perfectly symmetrical octagon. Those eight cuts were simply to remove the bark and shape the wood into a regular form; only then could the split wood be evenly distributed.
With his left hand free to support the wood, Ronnie was confident in his ability to cut wood in one stroke. While his weight might affect his agility, it greatly improved his stability and strength. His round cheeks twitched, and Ronnie's axe moved again, moving like a gust of wind, sweeping across one corner of the eight sides of the wood. A single strand of wood separated from the log, lying quietly beside the bark.
This time, Ronnie chopped the wood with extreme care, each cut meticulously calculated. The resulting strands were remarkably even, indistinguishable to the naked eye.
How long does it take to chop a single piece of firewood? Normally, Ronnie only needs a few hundred quick swings of his knife. But today, this piece of firewood took him a full half day.
Chambers had somehow appeared behind Ronnie. He didn't say a word, and Ronnie, focused intently on the firewood before him, didn't notice his arrival. Every chop was carefully considered.
Chambers smiled, a satisfied smile. Chopping firewood is not only a good way to build strength, but also a way to hone knife skills. An ordinary chef might find a heavy wood-chopping knife less agile, but it's precisely this unwieldy, rustic knife that demands the most from the hand. To develop knife skills with a wood-chopping knife, one needs complete coordination of mind, eye, and hand. Compared to simply training the hand, the skill of splitting wood into thin strands is far more refined.
The final swing brought a flash of cold light. Applause sounded from behind. Ronnie wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and turned to look at his master. "Master, was my splitting this time even?"
Chambers nodded. "Not bad. It took me three years to evenly split this kind of firewood. Being able to split it evenly proves you've reached a basic level."
Ronnie asked excitedly, "Then I don't have to split anymore?"
Chambers' expression changed, and he said seriously, "You still have a long way to go. Although it's fairly even, it's not completely even, and your firewood strands could be even finer. Besides, look at how long it took you. You'll only be considered fully qualified when you can split a piece of firewood thirty centimeters in diameter in three minutes."
Ronnie said dejectedly, "When will that take?! Master, you talk to me about cooking principles and methods every day, but you never let me actually practice. When will I ever graduate?"