3,000 years lost, one swordsmith revives it

(Photos provided by interviewee unless otherwise stated)

In an age ruled by machines and obsessed with speed, one man spent eight years shaping a sword of absolute harmony — flawless in form, unyielding in line and tempered to perfection.

Swimming against the current is Chen Shicong (陈世聪), a Taiwanese master swordsmith and founder of the Jian Lu Sword Workshop. For him, swordmaking is never just craft — it is a rigorous discipline of body, mind and spirit.

Before stepping in front of the grindstone, Chen meditates. This is not a ritual, but a necessity to “focus the mind”. In an email interview with Lianhe Zaobao, he explained that hand-grinding a sword is far more demanding than most imagine. A long, slender billet of steel must be shaped into a double-edged blade with four bevels, forming three perfectly straight lines. There is no instrument to rely on; everything depends on experience and touch to control the sword’s straightness, thickness and balance. The slightest lapse in focus leaves an irreversible flaw.

He said, “I meditate to allow my body to become still and my mind to settle, so the spirit can enter a state of intense yet steady concentration. The swordsmith no longer frets over gain or loss, but comes into an unspoken alignment with the blade in hand — a moment when person and sword are one.” 

He added that a sword carries the imprint of the state of mind and moment in which it is made; to those who take the time to feel it, these subtle differences can be sensed.

Chen, 74, has been a fan of martial arts or wuxia novels since young, carrying a lifelong dream of a peerless sword. When he finally turned seriously to swordmaking in middle age, he was hit by a harsh truth: the traditional Chinese art of sword forging had been lost for some 3,000 years.

The first obstacle is material. The steel required for a sword is almost impossible to reproduce in the modern world. Without the right steel, how could one speak of forging a sword at all? He therefore invested heavily, collaborating with steel and quenching experts, and eventually developed a steel that met his ideals. 

Yet this was only the beginning of the real challenge. He soon realised that the soul of a sword lies not in smelting, but in grinding. He dedicated eight years to master this art, correcting his hands and refining his judgement through countless failures, until he finally ground a blade that, to him, was flawless.

The artefacts unearthed from Qin Shi Huang’s mausoleum in recent years left him profoundly awed. Even with today’s advanced industrial tools, replicating such ancient masterpieces remains an immense challenge — how did the ancients achieve such feats with rudimentary instruments?

He knows all too well that much of a culture is not destroyed by a lack of skill, but by the ineffable details that vanish amid social upheaval. His approach is to move forward while honouring the spirit of the ancient methods: “Although the techniques vary from those of the ancients due to the difference in tools, the forging process still follows the rules and taboos they left behind. The method may change, but the essence remains.”

Chen believes that a sword is never merely a collectible or an heirloom, but a ritual object (法器). The “vital force of the sword” that he speaks of is not some mysterious tale, but a form of sword qi (剑气) that is real and perceptible: a kind of spiritual aura imbued with positive energy, capable of shifting the surrounding atmosphere — hence the age-old use of fine swords to guard the home, ward off evil and drive away malicious people.

He explained that deities in temples as well as wise rulers and outstanding generals in history often wielded swords, symbolising the power of justice and goodness. “By ‘ritual object’, I do not mean a tool for rites in the narrow sense, but an object embodying the laws of heaven and earth, bearing intangible principles.”

When asked where this qi comes from, Chen admitted that there is no single answer: material, craftsmanship, the swordsmith’s own cultivation and the state of mind at that moment could all contribute to it. “But one thing’s certain — sword qi exists and it can gradually manifest through the wielder’s careful, attentive practice of the sword,” he said.

Chen believes that a master swordsmith is not made by skill alone. Interest is the beginning, integrity is the bottom line, and perseverance and fearlessness in the face of failure are basic requirements. Above all, they must cultivate themselves, and reach a state of sustained, unwavering concentration.

He said, “Sword grinding is incredibly tedious and requires several hours of focus. Patience, concentration, steadiness, the ability to sit with stillness, steady hands, a keen sensitivity and a genuine love for the sword itself — each one is crucial to the process. These qualities often grow out of temperament, family background and years of cultivation. In any field, people with these qualities are capable of real achievement. That’s why, in today’s world, those who not only possess these traits but are also willing to devote themselves to swordmaking are exceptionally rare.” 

His greatest wish is simply that this craft can be carried on — that it will not vanish one day.

Chen’s life did not begin with swordmaking in mind. He studied agronomy, served as a secretary at Taiwan’s Council for Cultural Affairs (now the Ministry of Culture), moved through newspaper marketing and even the automotive industry — only turning fully towards his dream in midlife. These paths may seem unrelated, but they have become the very foundations of his swordmaking philosophy today.

Swordmaking is not just about polishing a blade — it also involves design and context, crafting the fittings, fine-tuning the assembly, working alongside fellow artisans, and even sharing the work with the wider world. Much like the automotive industry, an engine alone does not make a good car. Those early cross-disciplinary years taught him persistence, resilience and resourcefulness, integrating systems together. He is convinced that without those “detours”, today’s Chen Shicong would not exist.

Chen’s swords are not only treasured by the late Venerable Master Hsing Yun of Fo Guang Shan, but have also found their way into the personal collection of martial arts legend Jackie Chan.

In December 2025, Chen brought 21 masterpiece swords — the result of a lifetime’s devotion — to Singapore for his first solo exhibition organised by the Asian Cultural Exchange Society, “Jian Lu: Where Ancient Wisdom Meets Master Craftsmanship”. From the repeated hammering and folding of pattern steel, to the rare fish skin inlay used on the scabbards, every piece reveals master-level techniques that have nearly vanished. More than that, each sword embodies the philosophical spirit of Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism.

This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as “八年磨一剑 陈世聪铸剑即修行”.

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