Three days passed in a flash.

The fourth round of the Title Match Main Tournament officially began.

Yu Shao got up early in the morning, got dressed, washed up quickly, left the hotel, grabbed some breakfast, and headed straight for the Eastern Go Academy.

Not long after, Yu Shao arrived at the entrance of the Handtalk Room.

Staring at the door, he felt a bit complicated inside.

It had been more than a year since he came to this world.

Over the past year, he’d played countless games, faced all kinds of opponents—some strong, some weak, each with their own unique style.

And now, at last, he was about to face one of the strongest Go players in this world, head-on.

Yu Shao stood quietly at the entrance for a moment, then finally reached out and pushed the door open.

The moment he stepped into the Handtalk Room, the two referees and the recorder inside all looked toward him in unison.

And he wasn’t the only one there—at the center table sat a figure already seated on one side of the board.

Zhuang Weisheng wore a black suit today, his expression calm, but an imposing presence emanated from him without needing to say a word. Sitting quietly at the board, he resembled an unshakable mountain.

Seeing Yu Shao enter, Zhuang Weisheng slowly looked up and greeted him with calm composure.

“Yu Shao, 3-dan. Morning.”

Yu Shao nodded slightly and returned the greeting.

“Good morning, Teacher Zhuang.”

With that, Yu Shao made his way to the other side of the table, pulled out his chair, and sat down.

“This is the first time we’ve officially played each other.”

After Yu Shao sat down, Zhuang Weisheng looked at him again and spoke.

“No matter what, you’re finally sitting across from me. We’ll be playing an even game.”

Yu Shao blinked slightly and looked at Zhuang Weisheng.

Zhuang’s gaze remained calm—but beneath that calm was a piercing, razor-sharp edge.

The entire room was suddenly filled with a suffocating pressure, as if the air had become heavier the moment he spoke.

Staring into Zhuang Weisheng’s eyes, Yu Shao’s expression gradually turned serious.

He had seen eyes like this before.

In his past life—back when the Go Association hosted the once-a-decade World Go King Relay Tournament.

The minimum requirement to participate was holding a world championship title. In other words, every participant was one of the best of the best, standing at the pinnacle of the Go world.

He had just claimed his first world title then. Per the rules, the most recent world champion would serve as the final defender.

The challengers who came at him—every single one of them had that same look in their eyes.

In that tournament, he had faced countless top players. The battles were brutal. He was pushed to the brink again and again.

And now, Zhuang Weisheng had that exact same look—just like those Go Kings from the past.

It was those very eyes that had once driven him to the edge of defeat over and over again.

But...

“No matter how tough the journey was, in the end, not a single one of those top players could defeat me.”

Yu Shao stared back at Zhuang Weisheng, a surge of emotion rising within him, his eyes sharp as blades.

“In the end, I went 19-0—swept through the entire tournament undefeated!”

...

...

Inside the Handtalk Room.

The atmosphere was thick and heavy.

In this not-so-large Go room, under a hanging scroll that read Discussing the Way While Seated, the two players faced each other across the board. Though separated by a single table, it felt like an entire world stood between them.

Both appeared calm on the surface—but the intensity in their eyes could shake one’s soul.

Gulp.

The female recorder couldn’t help but swallow hard.

Nothing had happened yet—no conversation, no move played. But all three people in the room could sense it: a sacred, solemn tension filled the space.

And within that solemnity... was an undercurrent of murderous intent.

It felt like standing inside a temple.

“If Yu Shao represents the future of Chinese Go, then Teacher Zhuang Weisheng represents its present.”

One of the referees felt the oppressive atmosphere and even he grew nervous.

“And now... future and present are about to collide!”

Not just in the Handtalk Room—across the globe, people were glued to their TVs and computers, waiting with tense anticipation for the match to begin.

Time ticked on.

Finally, after a few more moments, one of the referees stood up, took a deep breath, and solemnly declared:

“The fourth round of the National Master Tournament Main Bracket—Winner’s Final—begins now!”

“Each player has three hours. Overtime: 90 seconds per move. Komi: 7.5 points to White. Now, please proceed with nigiri.”

...

Seoul, Korea.

Seoul Go Academy.

“Lee Hyunwoo, I heard you beat Park Woo-sik, 9-dan, in the Tengen Tournament. Impressive as always.”

Two young Go players were walking down the academy hallway, chatting. One of them, a skinny guy with glasses, looked at the freckled youth beside him with admiration.

“Can you not be this much of a genius?”

“Hahaha, genius? That was just luck.”

Lee Hyunwoo shook his head with a smile. “If I’m a genius, then what does that make Yu Shao?”

“You’re comparing yourself to Yu Shao and still think you’re not a genius?”

The skinny one rolled his eyes. “How many people can be compared to that freak? What—Lee Junhyuk’s not even in your eyes anymore?”

“Come on, I’m not even close to Lee Junhyuk. He’s only 18 and already made it to the Title Match Main Bracket.”

Lee Hyunwoo smiled. “I’m 22 now and just scraped into the main bracket. Gotta step it up and try to grab a title.”

“If you’ve already made the main bracket, you’re not far from the title.”

The skinny youth teased, “Don’t be surprised if I have to start calling you Tengen Lee Hyunwoo soon.”

“Get lost. Don’t you have a match today? Go already. I’m heading to the discussion room to train.”

“You’re already so talented and still work this hard—how am I supposed to keep up?”

The skinny youth looked miserable. “We qualified the same year, and you’re already in the main bracket. I’m still stuck at 6-dan!”

“Hahaha!”

Lee Hyunwoo couldn’t help laughing. “Like the Chinese say—if it’s meant to be, it’ll be. If not, don’t force it.”

“Just shut up.”

The skinny one rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’m off to my match.”

“Good luck.”

Lee Hyunwoo nodded, waved goodbye, and walked to the discussion room. He opened the door—

And found it completely empty.

“Huh? Where is everyone?”

He was puzzled. Usually, when the Korean and Chinese pros were free, they’d hang out in here, reviewing games or playing practice matches. But today—no one.

Then he noticed something on the table—a black laptop.

“That’s Zhao Xingzhi’s laptop, right? Did he forget to take it?”

He walked over, sat down, and opened the laptop.

“Been a while since I played an online game. Let’s do one.”

He logged into the Nineteen online Go platform, entered his credentials, moved his mouse to click on “Match”—and froze.

“Huh?”

He noticed the front-page banner on Nineteen—it was about the National Master Tournament match with Zhuang Weisheng.

“Today’s Zhuang Weisheng’s main bracket match?”

Lee Hyunwoo chuckled. “When he lost the 10-Dan title, that was a shock. But what if he loses the 10-Dan and wins the National Master? Dual titles again?”

Then his smile faded slightly. Something seemed off.

“Wait a second.”

“This isn’t even the title match—it’s just the main bracket. Why is it on Nineteen’s homepage?”

He stroked his chin, confused.

Nineteen was a global Go platform with massive traffic. If it were a title challenge match, a homepage spot made sense. But this? Just the main bracket?

Sure, the main bracket was important, especially in China. But internationally, attention usually only spiked when it reached the final title challenge.

So why now?

Curious, Lee Hyunwoo canceled the match and clicked on the homepage link—jumping straight into the live broadcast room.

“Just started?”

He glanced casually at the board, then looked at the stream’s title:

Zhuang Weisheng (Tengen) vs...

“Vs...”

Lee Hyunwoo froze, his eyes widening. His body leaned forward.

“Vs Yu Shao, 3-dan?!”

Seeing the two names, he immediately understood why this match had made it to the front page.

Zhuang Weisheng vs. Yu Shao.

One was Zhuang—legendary.

And the other was... Yu Shao!

He stared blankly at the stream title, then abruptly turned his eyes back to the board.

Only three moves had been played.

“Black is Teacher Zhuang. White is Yu Shao. Zhuang opened with Star and Komoku, White’s first move was Star.”

Lee Hyunwoo held his breath, eyes locked on the screen.

Next move—Yu Shao.

And soon enough, under his gaze, a hand picked up a white stone and placed it.

Clack!

Column 4, Row 16 – Star.

Star-Ko vs. Double Star Formation—already taking shape!

...

...

United States.

California, San Francisco.

It was late at night in America. A blond-haired, blue-eyed man lay sound asleep in bed, next to a stunning blonde model—naked and wrapped in his arms.

Ring ring!

The phone rang, waking the man. He frowned, not wanting to pick it up. He turned over and hugged the woman tighter, ignoring the ringing.

Eventually, the call ended. Still, he didn’t move or open his eyes.

Ring ring!

But moments later, the phone rang again.

The model woke up too, annoyed by the noise. She nudged him gently.

“Baby... it’s your phone.”

The man finally opened his eyes impatiently. He picked up the phone, saw the caller ID, and answered irritably.

“What? It’s the middle of the night. Don’t people sleep anymore?”

But then, after hearing what the other end had to say, his face changed.

“What?!”

He shot up in bed.

“For real?”

Once he got confirmation, he grabbed his clothes and began dressing in a hurry.

“Alright, I’m on it. Gonna watch now.”

“Baby, what is it? Work?”

The model looked up sleepily. “You’re leaving?”

“No—it’s Go. There’s a Go match today. I have to see it.”

“Go match?” she pouted. “Can’t you just stay in bed with me? Watch the replay tomorrow…”

“No. You sleep. I need to watch this live. It’s Zhuang Weisheng vs. Yu Shao!”

“...Baby…”

She tried to whine, but seeing the look on his face, she gave up.

The man finished dressing, rushed to his desk, opened the laptop, and logged into Nineteen. From the homepage, he entered the live room.

“That’s it!”

He took a deep breath. Though seasoned in business, he couldn’t hide the excitement on his face.

“Zhuang Weisheng... vs—

Yu Shao!”

He stared at the board.

Four moves were on the board—and just then, the fifth move landed.

Column 6, Row 17 – Small Knight’s Approach!

“Teacher Zhuang’s using the Small Knight’s Approach here?”

The man’s expression sharpened, eyes locked on the screen.

“Komoku and Small Knight’s Approach... Could it be... is he playing the Weisheng-Style?”

A Go opening pattern named after Zhuang Weisheng himself!

Inside the Handtalk Room—

“Komoku, Small Knight’s Approach…”

Seeing Zhuang play it, the female recorder and the two referees all craned their necks, hearts pounding.

“Could Teacher Zhuang... actually go for the Weisheng-Style?”

Star-Komoku against Double Star—followed by a Small Knight’s Approach—is a very standard sequence.

But because it was Zhuang Weisheng playing it, they couldn’t help but think of Weisheng-Style!

After all, this opening was named after him. He had used it to crush countless masters in high-level matches.

“But... last time, Yu Shao countered the Weisheng-Style with mind-blowing novelty moves. Most pros are still studying that game... Teacher Zhuang must know too.”

The female recorder glanced at Zhuang.

“Could it be... he already found a new response?”

That was the question on everyone’s minds.

Would this game feature the Weisheng-Style again?

Clack!

Another stone fell.

Yu Shao took a stone from the bowl and placed it.

Column 3, Row 14 – Small Knight’s Move!

Faced with Black’s approach, White answered with a Small Knight’s Move.

Everyone watching held their breath.

The game had reached a turning point.

If Black responded with a high extension from the star point—the Ultra Knight’s Move—then the board would officially enter Weisheng-Style!

Of course, other responses existed too—plenty of complex variations.

But what everyone wanted to see most... was Zhuang playing his signature Weisheng-Style once again!

Right now, Zhuang Weisheng sat silently across from Yu Shao, eyes on the board. He didn’t move.

Time ticked by.

One minute...

Two minutes...

Three minutes...

No long think was needed here. Yet, Zhuang had fallen into a deep think!

“If it were the old Zhuang, he’d play that extension without a second thought... But now, he hasn’t.”

One comment scrolled across the livestream chat.

Indeed—if it were Zhuang, that Ultra Knight's Move would have landed instantly. That was Weisheng-Style.

When Zhuang swept the Go world with that style, even Japanese pro Murakami Junichi once said:

“Times may change, but as long as the rules of Go remain, Weisheng-Style will never go out of date. It will always be good Go.”

And yet—Zhuang was still hesitating.

“No Ultra Extension?”

The female recorder stared blankly at him.

“Teacher Zhuang...”

He gazed at the board, then slowly closed his eyes.

Seconds later, he opened them again—eyes sharp, as if they could pierce the entire board.

“It’s time... to say goodbye.”

His gaze was clear, a glimmer of light in his eyes.

Only he, Yu Shao, and Qin Lang knew about the private game they’d played.

He knew—after Yu Shao’s conceptual revolution of territory vs. influence—that the Weisheng-Style had... rusted.

“I know how hard it would be to win this game by clinging to the past.”

“Whether it’s still viable is unclear. But those seemingly absurd responses... they weren’t as bad as we thought.”

“He really did it. He overturned 4,000 years of Go theory. He redefined territory and influence. It’s a feat no one else has ever achieved.”

Zhuang looked at Yu Shao with a serious expression.

“To beat him, I can’t stay chained to the past.”

“I must move forward—completely reinvent my style. Break conventions. Fight on complex boards. Win or lose on the strength of my moves alone!”

“This match won’t be decided by traps or waiting for mistakes.”

“This match will come down to pure skill.”

“Seek the stronger move. Sever ties with the past.”

“In the foggiest, messiest situations, seize fleeting chances. Find the final move. Risk everything for victory.”

Finally, Zhuang reached into the bowl.

The cold stone sat between his fingers.

“Alright then... let’s play it this way.”

Clack!

The stone hit the board.

Column 9, Row 16 – High Knight’s Jump!

...

Seeing this move land, Lee Hyunwoo jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. His pupils shrank. He shot to his feet.

“That move—High Knight’s Jump?!”

He stared at the board in disbelief.

“Not the Ultra Knight’s Move?!”

If Black had extended to the usual point—it would’ve been Weisheng-Style.

But this... was something new.

It resembled Weisheng-Style—but wasn’t.

Elsewhere, in the San Francisco villa, the blond man stared at the screen in shock.

“That move… a High Knight’s Jump…”

“It’s just one line away—but it changes everything. If White approaches now, the whole game transforms.”

“Incredible... Under Zhuang Weisheng’s hands, Weisheng-Style has... evolved!”

Online, the chat exploded. Bullet comments filled the screen.

“He didn’t go to the star point. Went for the high jump—toward the left side!”

“This is a brand-new idea. Maybe we can call it... the new Weisheng-Style?”

“I never thought of this. The shape’s no longer Weisheng-Style—but the spirit remains. The moves Yu Shao used to counter the old version—might not work here!”

Exactly.

Not the Ultra Knight’s Move.

Not the Weisheng-Style that once swept the Go world.

Instead...

High Knight’s Jump!

And the one who played it—was no longer the Zhuang Weisheng of the past.

It was the reforged Zhuang Weisheng.

Just one line’s difference—but the board had already transformed beyond recognition.

Go’s changes were always this mysterious and profound.

One line apart—and the entire universe shifted.

Zhuang finally looked away from the board and stared at Yu Shao across the table.

“Alright then.”

“Let’s do this.”