"Cap?"

The moment this move appeared, everyone watching the game froze for a second.

"A cap here?"

The referee next to the board stared intently. "That was unexpected. But it kind of echoes the whole board... things just got a little delicate."

"Still feels like Black's position is easier to play, though."

Chen Shan frowned slightly as he stared at the board in front of him. After thinking for a moment, he clamped a stone and quickly placed it.

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

Both players began dropping stones in rapid succession, the sound of stones falling echoing again and again.

On the board, black and white stones continued to fall, each side tightly entangled with the other. The game was becoming increasingly complex, and the battle even more intense.

But as the match progressed, the expressions of everyone watching slowly began to shift.

"White looks to be in a bad position, but..."

The recorder glanced at the board a short distance away, and feeling the heart-pounding tension from the confrontation on the board, she couldn't help but swallow.

"But for some reason, Black just can't do anything to White right now!"

At that moment, Yu Shao clamped a stone again and slowly placed it on the board.

Clack!

Column 14, Row 11 – Jump!

Chen Shan's face had gone pale at some point, and beads of sweat had appeared along his temples, dampening his hair.

Click.

After thinking for a while, Chen Shan clamped a stone again and dropped it quickly.

Column 14, Row 10 – Bump!

"Actually, White’s moves aren’t that hard to play. There's a variety of options, the position is active, and not a single group seems to be in danger of dying. But when you do the math..."

The recorder stared at the board, visibly shocked. "Black doesn't have enough to make up the 7.5-point komi!"

"If this ends with a 7.5-point komi, Black might even be half a point behind White!"

"Black’s got great momentum and all, lots of attacking options—but still comes up half a point short!"

"Black has to find a way to use that aggression to catch up that half-point. With all this momentum, surely half a point... shouldn’t be a problem, right?"

The recorder stared at the board, dazed.

This should have been a straightforward conclusion, and yet she couldn’t be sure anymore.

From over 20 moves ago, Black had been half a point behind. But even with this long of a chase, even with all this attacking power... Black was still half a point short!

Soon, Yu Shao clamped a stone again and slowly placed it.

This time, Chen Shan didn’t respond immediately. He stared fixedly at the board, sinking into an extended deep think.

Minute by minute, time ticked away.

At last, Chen Shan’s eyes took on a firmer look. He clamped another stone and dropped it quickly.

Column 7, Row 13 – Invasion!

As soon as that stone landed, the whole board situation turned razor-sharp.

“Black’s played all his cards and gone for a massive sacrifice—invading straight into White’s territory for a hard kill!”

The recorder and both referees next to the board were stunned.

To kill White’s group, Black had recklessly given up a huge group at the top—sacrificed it all for the kill!

“What... what incredible guts!”

Yu Shao quietly watched the board, then clamped another stone and calmly placed it.

...

...

Donghai, inside a luxury apartment.

“Half a point... locked in.”

Jiang Changdong stared at the computer screen. The room lights were off and the curtains drawn, so the blue light from the monitor cast a ghostly hue across his face.

On the digital board, stones continued falling, one by one.

“Chen Shan, 9-dan, already played brilliantly this game... chased White all across the board, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t close that half-point gap.”

Jiang Changdong stared at the screen in silence.

From the very opening, Black had made his intentions clear—an all-out frontal assault, aiming to dominate the center. White’s response had been equally fierce.

Since White’s big knight’s move during the opening, both sides had found themselves stuck on the tiger’s back—unable to back down, committed to a fight to the death in the center.

In the face of White’s bold posture, Black refused to yield, flowing into the framework White wanted—and then, just when things seemed steady, whipped out a dagger and flipped the board. White appeared to fall behind.

But from the moment White capped that stone, no matter how furious Black's assault became—like a raging storm—it never managed to budge White at all.

Even when Black went for the boldest invasion and chased White relentlessly, even after exhausting every weapon in his arsenal... he still couldn’t catch up!

With every move, Jiang Changdong could feel Black’s unwillingness, that burning will—but more than that, the crushing sense of helplessness.

Black’s attacks came in waves. And yet, while White’s formation seemed shaky, it never collapsed.

To give everything—every ounce of energy—to hunt your opponent down across the board, every move filled with killing intent, only to find the gap unchanged... how bitter must that feel?

Another thirty-something moves went by, and both players entered the endgame.

“Endgame’s where it gets razor precise. Every single point matters. At this level, the whole game will come down to a margin of just half a point.”

“Could this be Black’s final chance?”

...

In the Handtalk Room, the sound of stones falling continued.

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

Chen Shan bit his lip slightly, staring at the board in front of him with frustration, still trying to scrounge up every possible point.

But...

Beside him, both the referee and the recorder had somber expressions. Even they could see how this final endgame would end.

“White’s endgame was flawless—not a single error, every detail executed perfectly!”

Soon, the female recorder saw Yu Shao place another stone. She took a deep breath and clicked her mouse to log the move.

“White smoothly closed out the minor endgame.”

“Left no room for Black at all.”

Seeing Yu Shao's move, Chen Shan didn’t place another stone. He stared at the board, pale-faced, then after a long pause, bowed his head slightly. The fist he’d been clenching slowly loosened.

“I lost...”

The Handtalk Room fell completely silent.

The recorder and two referees stared at Chen Shan, suddenly feeling a wave of sadness.

This game, Chen Shan had been chasing White from beginning to end. He’d given it everything he had. Even they had been moved, hoping Black’s effort would be rewarded.

But despite using every ounce of his strength, even going so far as to bloodily sacrifice stones for a killing strike—he still couldn’t close that tiny half-point gap.

After counting komi, Black—lost by half a point.

“Thank you for the game.”

Yu Shao bowed slightly to Chen Shan and spoke.

After a moment’s silence, Chen Shan returned the bow. “Thank you for the game.”

Once the formalities were done, Yu Shao reached out and began gathering the stones.

“He’s already won three in a row now.”

One of the referees looked at Yu Shao with a complicated expression.

“Four games in total. That’s all it takes to decide the winner’s bracket champion. The fifth game will be between the winner’s bracket champ and the loser’s bracket champ. That match will determine who earns the title match slot.”

“And whoever gets that slot will challenge the current titleholder. If they win the title match series... they’ll claim the title.”

“A title at seventeen years old.”

“Maybe... he really can do it.”

...

Elsewhere.

“It’s over.”

Seeing the match end, Jiang Changdong continued silently staring at the game on his screen.

After a long while, he finally reached for the phone on his desk, opened his contacts, and found Chu Jingfeng’s name.

He looked at the phone, hesitated, then finally made the call.

It didn’t take long to connect.

“Hello? Teacher Jiang Changdong?”

Chu Jingfeng’s voice came from the other end. “What’s up?”

“That game just now—Chen Shan versus Yu Shao—did you watch it?”

Jiang Changdong was silent for a moment, then asked.

“Yeah, just finished.”

Chu Jingfeng sounded a bit confused. “Why?”

Jiang Changdong fell silent again.

Seeing that the call had connected but Jiang Changdong wasn’t saying anything, Chu Jingfeng grew even more puzzled. “Hello? Teacher Jiang? You still there? Bad signal?”

Jiang Changdong stared at the screen, took a deep breath, and after a long while, finally spoke.

“Didn’t you say before, you wanted to review Yu Shao’s games with me?”

Now it was Chu Jingfeng’s turn to go silent.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Jiang Changdong said, “There are two more games left in the National Master Tournament main bracket before the challenger slot is decided. One match every two weeks. Which means... if he really makes it to the title match, we’ve got one month.”

He stared at the game record on the screen, his eyes suddenly sharpening.

“One month should be enough.”

Time flew by.

Seven days later.

After seven days of battles, Round Three of the National Master Tournament main bracket finally ended!

At last, after three rounds of competition, only two players remained in the winner’s bracket: Yu Shao and—

Zhuang Weisheng.

Every other player had dropped into the loser’s bracket, and from there, only one would make it back.

With the tournament reaching its climax, public interest in the National Master Tournament was higher than ever. After all, the main bracket winner would earn the right to challenge for a title.

A title challenge meant a foot already in the door—if they could defeat the reigning titleholder, they would claim one of the highest honors in Go:

A title.

Go Sage, Tengen, National Master, 10-Dan, Base Saint, Go Master, Meijin—

These were the titles every player dreamed of, the pinnacle of the Go world. Though many play the game, only seven players per country per year can hold a title.

Because of that, every title challenge match drew global attention—not just national.

And now, with the next main bracket match being Yu Shao vs. Zhuang Weisheng, anticipation exploded.

Zhuang Weisheng had always been the most watched player in the country. Yu Shao, since earning his pro qualification, had become the year’s hottest rising star.

This would be their first head-to-head on the competitive stage, naturally drawing massive attention. Online media was already hyping it up as the “Clash of Eras” and “Battle of Titans”... sparking endless speculation.

“Xiao Shao, your next opponent—it's really Zhuang Weisheng?”

On the phone, Cai Xiaomei’s voice rang out—clearly shocked.

“Yeah. Only me and Teacher Zhuang left in the winner’s bracket. So unless something unexpected happens, I’ll be playing against Teacher Zhuang next round.”

Yu Shao corrected her. “Not 10-Dan—he’s the Tengen now.”

“My g*d, it really is Zhuang Weisheng 10-Dan!”

Cai Xiaomei’s voice got more animated. She clearly didn’t catch what Yu Shao just said. “Even I know that name—and I don’t know a thing about Go! He’s a legend!”

Then she called out in the background, “Old Yu! Come quick! Quit washing the veggies—our son’s actually going to face Zhuang Weisheng 10-Dan! Zhuang Weisheng!!”

Soon, Yu Dongming’s voice came through the line.

“Xiao Shao, I know his name is huge—but don’t be scared, okay? Don’t get nervous. Just play your game!”

Yu Shao smiled slightly. “I beat Teacher Zhu Xinyuan and Teacher Chen Shan already. What’s there to be nervous about?”

“That’s not the same! This is Zhuang Weisheng! The man who’s held more titles than anyone! A literal pillar holding up Chinese Go during its slump! He’s on a whole different level!”

Yu Dongming immediately warned, “Don’t get cocky just because you’ve beaten a few strong players. Teacher Zhuang is top five in the world, no question!”

Yu Shao couldn’t help chuckling.

To people like Yu Dongming and Cai Xiaomei, who didn’t understand Go, rankings were rigid. The best player simply couldn’t lose to the second best—let alone third or fourth.

To them, Zhuang Weisheng was like a towering mountain, crushing every other player beneath him. A lifelong goal to strive toward, not someone you could actually beat.

In their eyes, Zhuang Weisheng wasn’t supposed to lose. If he did lose, it could only be to international players from Japan or Korea—not anyone from China.

But that wasn’t true.

Even a 9-dan world champion could lose to a 2-dan female pro.

In Go, the stronger player doesn’t always win. Victory and defeat are common. Only long-term win rates reflect a player’s true strength.

Play ten games and win nine—you’re clearly stronger. But nobody can guarantee ten out of ten.

(Well... except Go AIs.)

Go AIs don’t get tired. Their calculations are flawless. Their depth of reading puts humans to shame. Most importantly, they’re entirely emotionless—each move cold, precise, driven by pure data.

That emotionless quality may be their greatest strength—or their biggest weakness...

But Yu Shao wasn’t about to explain all that to his parents. He just smiled and said, “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

“Stay calm. Don’t let the pressure get to you. Just play every move with composure—show what you’re capable of!”

Thinking about his son’s upcoming match, Yu Dongming’s tone turned serious.

He believed in Yu Shao—but this wasn’t just any opponent. This was Zhuang Weisheng.

“Got it.”

Yu Shao smiled again. After chatting with his parents a bit more, he finally ended the call.

He set his phone down and turned to the tangled, complex board in front of him.

This was the game Zhuang Weisheng played a few days ago against Fan Shengjie, 9-dan, during the National Master Tournament. He’d won midgame by slaying a dragon—utterly decisive.

In that game, Zhuang Weisheng had shown terrifying calculation. He’d sacrificed vital stones and, by using half a board of dead stones, unleashed a monstrous assault that ended in a one-stroke kill. A brilliant win.

Yu Shao stared at the board. After a moment, he reached into the Go bowl, just about to pull out a stone—when his phone suddenly rang again.

He frowned, withdrew his hand from the bowl, picked up the phone, and seeing the name on the screen, blinked.

Then he answered: “Hello? Xu Zijin?”

“It’s me.”

Xu Zijin’s cool, pleasant voice came through the line.

“What’s up?”

Yu Shao still had his eyes on the board.

After a moment of silence, Xu Zijin said, “Your next opponent in the National Master Tournament is Teacher Zhuang Weisheng.”

“Yeah.”

Yu Shao sounded a bit puzzled. “That’s right.”

Xu Zijin paused again, then softly said, “I’ll be watching.”

“Okay.”

Yu Shao smiled. “Hope I play well enough not to disappoint you.”

“You’ve never disappointed me,” Xu Zijin said calmly.

“Huh?”

Yu Shao was momentarily dazed.

“I’m really looking forward to your game against Teacher Zhuang,” Xu Zijin said. “It’s not just me—almost everyone’s watching... good luck.”

Then the call ended with a beep.

Yu Shao didn’t find it strange. He set the phone down again, looked back at the board, and finally pulled out a stone.

Clack!

Column 8, Row 11 – Cut and Capture!

The stone landed with a crisp sound.

“I’d heard of Zhuang Weisheng the moment I arrived in this world.”

Yu Shao stared at the board, the game reflected in his eyes as he recalled the past.

Back when he played in the High School Go League, he borrowed Go books from Zhou De to train. Those books had many of Zhuang Weisheng’s game records.

To him, those games lacked AI-era depth—but were still deeply impressive.

Despite not living through the AI era, Zhuang Weisheng’s moves were still wonderfully profound, often making Yu Shao want to stand up and cheer.

Back then, while reading his records, Yu Shao would often feel an urge—an itch—to play against him someday.

Technically, he’d already played Zhuang Weisheng twice—once in the Flame Inheritance Match after earning his pro qualification, and once in a casual blitz game.

But neither could really count as a true match. One was for fun. The other was just a casual daily game.

A proper tournament game—on the big stage—was something else entirely.

So in a sense, he still hadn’t truly faced Zhuang Weisheng.

“A wish from a year ago... in just a few days, it’ll come true.”

“This will be my first time playing a current titleholder on the tournament stage.”

“And the Zhuang Weisheng of today—he’s even stronger than the one I studied a year ago.”

Yu Shao clamped another stone and gently placed it on the board.

“Zhuang Weisheng... what kind of game will you bring?”