The next day, a headline article titled “The Eternal Injustice Game, A Chronicle of Blood and Tears” appeared on the front page of the brand-new Go magazine Go: Blood and Tears.

With its publication, the second game between Yu Shao and Zhu Xinyuan immediately became a hot topic, sparking fervent discussion. Countless enthusiasts started analyzing and replaying the game, breaking down every move.

Even the Donghai Go Club—where the legendary match had taken place—printed the entire game record and pinned it to the wall for everyone to see.

Interest in the title tournament had already been high. But with the buzz surrounding Yu Shao’s second game against Zhu Xinyuan, its popularity surged once more.

The title tournament is a battlefield for the strongest. Every participant is a top-tier player.

Yet Yu Shao had already defeated Li You, then Zhu Xinyuan—twice. And one of those victories had produced a game so brilliant that even the Go world stood in stunned reverence.

Now, everyone was asking:

How far can Yu Shao go?

Can he reach the ultimate goal every Go player dreams of—

a title?

----------------------------------------

Donghai, a luxury apartment.

Jiang Changdong stared at a Go board spread out before him. It was covered in stones—an exact replica of the epic match from the Donghai Go Club the night before.

Opposite him sat Chu Jingfeng, also gazing at the board, expression heavy. After a long silence, he finally asked:

“So... Jiang Changdong-sensei, you watched the entire game in person?”

Jiang nodded calmly.

“I did.”

Chu looked at him again, gaze more serious than before. He inhaled deeply and said:

“I see.”

Jiang blinked.

“You see what?”

“There’s one month left until the title challenge match.”

Chu began collecting the stones as he spoke.

“Starting today, I’ll study all of Yu Shao’s games with you. We’ll find his weaknesses.”

Jiang’s expression instantly shifted.

“Chu Jingfeng... what do you mean by that?”

Startled, Chu quickly waved his hands.

“No, no, Jiang-sensei! That’s not what I meant—”

But before he could finish, Jiang—visibly angry now—interrupted him sharply.

“You’re saying that if Yu Shao reaches the title challenge match, I—

can’t beat him?”

Chu froze.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Know yourself and your enemy—only then can you be victorious a hundred times out of a hundred.”

“He has more recorded games than most. Studying his style helps us prepare. If it’s even possible he reaches the challenge match, we should start preparing now.”

“No matter what, he hasn’t lost a single official game yet.”

Rather than calming Jiang down, Chu’s explanation only made him angrier. He stood suddenly and snapped:

“So you’re saying you doubt I can beat Zhou De?”

Chu was stunned, completely confused by the reaction.

He had never seen Jiang like this before.

It wasn’t that he doubted Jiang’s ability. But could anyone say for certain that Jiang would beat Yu Shao?

Go doesn’t work like that. It has too many variables.

Even if two players clearly differ in strength, Go history is filled with unexpected upsets—titleholders losing to rookies, underdogs pulling off miracles.

And Yu Shao... wasn’t just any new player. His strength had been repeatedly proven.

“I admit, it’s possible Jiang-sensei might lose to Yu Shao.”

“But why react like this?”

“Even Jiang-sensei himself should know that’s a possibility.”

“So what’s wrong with preparing?”

Then Chu looked at the board again.

“Could it be... because of this game?”

“I only saw the record, but Jiang-sensei was there in person.”

“Did this game shake him that much?”

“Is it possible... Jiang-sensei is afraid?”

“Afraid he can’t beat Yu Shao?”

“No... that can’t be.”

“He’s Jiang Changdong. He’s a national champion.”

Still, the thought lingered.

After a long pause, Jiang clenched his jaw, sat down, and finally said:

“It’s been a while since we played, hasn’t it?”

Chu nodded.

“A long time.”

“Then let’s have a game.”

Jiang began resetting the board.

“If you think Yu Shao can beat me, then let’s play.”

Chu hesitated, wanting to explain. But seeing the intensity in Jiang’s eyes, he quietly nodded.

“Alright.”

They reset the board, decided color, and bowed formally.

This game: Chu took Black, Jiang took White.

“We haven’t played since the Tianwang Cup,” Chu said.

“You won that match.”

Jiang didn’t respond.

Chu said no more.

He placed the first move.

Snap.

Star point.

Jiang followed quickly.

Snap.

3-3 invasion.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Stone after stone echoed through the quiet study.

Time passed.

Eventually, Chu stared at the board, face pale.

He reached into the bowl, drew two black stones... and gently placed them in the center.

Snap. Snap.

“I resign.”

He stared at the board for a while before finally speaking.

Jiang stood slowly and said:

“You have your own tournaments to prepare for. No need to help me review games.”

“If he really reaches the title match—

I’ll still beat him.”

And with that, he left.

----------------------------------------

Elsewhere.

“Yu Shao, you’ve been blowing up lately.”

On the basketball court, Zhou De dribbled the ball with an exaggeratedly aggrieved face.

“Every other day I see your name in the news.”

Yu Shao raised a brow.

“Didn’t you just say you might be in the news soon too?”

“Didn’t expect to run into you in Donghai,” he added.

Zhou De was in town for a long-distance running competition, and since Yu Shao was here for the title tournament, they’d arranged to play basketball together today.

“Come on, man—forgot your bros now that you’re famous?”

Zhou grinned.

“You should be jumping for joy seeing me here!”

“I haven’t even gotten a sports recommendation yet, and you’re already admitted to Yanda through special recruitment! Total beast!”

Then, Zhou spun and bounced the ball from his left to his right shoulder, mimicking a flashy move.

“What do you think?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t play like that.”

Yu Shao rolled his eyes and stole the ball. One clean shot—swish.

Three-pointer. Nothing but net.

Zhou whistled and gave a thumbs up.

“D*mn, you’ve got some skills.”

“Not bad,” Yu Shao said with a small smile.

“How’s your training going? Think you’ll get recruited?”

“Not sure.”

Zhou sighed.

“I’m thinking of pausing Go for a while and focusing just on training. Can’t believe we’re almost in senior year.”

“You’ll be fine,” Yu Shao replied.

“You might suck at Go, but you can run. As Jiangling’s Go Saint, you’ve got a shot.”

He took another shot.

Clang. Missed.

“Wait—‘you suck at Go, but can run’?! What kinda logic is that?”

Yu Shao patted his shoulder solemnly.

“Zhou De, don’t waste your time on Go.”

“Remember: sometimes, the key to victory isn’t just on the board—

it’s off the board.”

“You ahole!”**

Zhou lunged with the ball like he was going to ram into him.

“Hey, hey—I didn’t mean it.”

But then Zhou stopped, a little deflated.

“Sigh…”

“Why the sigh?” Yu Shao asked, surprised.

Zhou rarely showed this side of himself.

“You already got into Yanda. Me? I’m still not sure if I’ll even make it.”

“Everyone’s under pressure now.”

“Remember Zhang Wenbo? He used to drag us to the internet café. Now he’s just doing exam prep all day.”

“Feng You? Screwed around too much last year, grades in the gutter. His parents are planning to send him abroad—he’s learning English now.”

Zhou scratched his head.

“Feels like soon I’ll be the only one left. Everyone’s got plans. Even the ones who were all about dating are getting serious now.”

“But you... you just need to keep walking forward.”

“The rest of us... we don’t even know which way to go.”

Yu Shao went quiet.

From the moment he chose to pursue professional Go again, his path had diverged from theirs.

College, jobs, future—all irrelevant.

As a pro, his only mission was to push forward into the dark, ever-expanding world of Go.

Victory or defeat.

Life or death.

That was all that mattered.

Then Zhou remembered something.

“Oh right—did I tell you? We had a transfer student. Used to be a dan-aspiring player.”

“He gave up. Said the path was too hard. Not everyone’s a genius like you. He didn’t have the talent.”

“He loved Go. Said he wished he could spend his life immersed in it. But there was no place for him.”

“He tried. Fought hard. But now... he’s giving up. Switching tracks. Thinking about college instead.”

Zhou’s tone turned somber.

Yu Shao looked at him.

For the first time, he felt like Zhou might be maturing a little.

“Anyway. Enough talk.”

Zhou smiled again.

“You better win a title this year, man. If you do, you’re gonna be freaking legendary.”

He jumped, shot—swish!

“I gotta start grinding too. Hopefully I get into Yanjing on a sports scholarship.”

“Then we can be classmates again!”