Tokyo, Japan.

“Kaoru Higashiyama, that last move was brilliant. Even against Iwagami Ken, 9-dan, playing such a solid style—you still saw through it.”

A long-haired youth stared at the board and shook his head in self-deprecation. “I would never have thought of that move. Only you could have seen it. When will I ever get as strong as you?”

“Keep dreaming.”

A young man with bleached blonde hair nearby chuckled and said, “Come on, this is Higashiyama Kaoru we’re talking about. If everyone were him, would we even need to worry about the upcoming Dragon-Tiger Cup?”

“Not just the Dragon-Tiger Cup. Starting next month, there’s going to be a wave of international tournaments.”

Another stocky youth with a buzz cut sighed. “Japan’s results haven’t been great these past couple of years. We lost the Dragon-Tiger Cup to Korea, and then the Oriental Cup to China. We’ve really got to step it up this year.”

A group of young men around twenty were gathered together, chatting while reviewing games. Higashiyama Kaoru sat among them, staring silently at the board.

“Yeah, we all thought with Higashiyama in the lineup, we’d take a win in the China-Japan-Korea Team Tournament. But in the end...”

The stocky youth trailed off mid-sentence, suddenly realizing that Higashiyama was right there. His voice abruptly stopped.

The long-haired youth looked embarrassed and, after a pause, said, “Sorry.”

The others couldn’t help glancing at Higashiyama as well.

He simply continued gazing at the board, calm and unbothered, as if he hadn’t heard anything.

The mood among the group grew complicated.

Strictly speaking, Japanese Go hadn’t done badly in recent years. Several promising young players had emerged, and Japan had even won a few major international tournaments—beating Korea and China on occasion.

Especially with someone like Higashiyama Kaoru, a prodigy who had already made a name for himself on the global stage at such a young age.

But no one expected China to suddenly produce a player like Yu Shao, who was every bit as brilliant as Higashiyama.

And in terms of actual results—Yu Shao had won their game.

Which meant, by competitive standards, he’d surpassed him.

Even more importantly, Yu Shao wasn’t the only one. China also had Su Yiming, another monster talent who could go toe-to-toe with Higashiyama.

Not only had Higashiyama lost to Yu Shao in an official match—even in private blitz games, he had lost to Su Yiming.

The light-hearted atmosphere suddenly felt stifled and heavy.

Creak—

Just then, the room’s door opened.

Everyone turned to look, and the newcomer instantly broke the gloomy mood.

“Takashi Yuki, why are you so late?”

The long-haired youth asked.

“Was playing a match at the academy. Afterward, reviewed a game between Honinbo Shinwa and Kim Siyu from Korea.”

Takahashi Yuki smiled as he explained. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“Oh, that game?”

The long-haired youth immediately nodded in recognition and grinned. “Yeah, that was a beautiful match. Sent chills down my spine—real edge-of-your-seat stuff.”

“Right? Honinbo Shinwa’s record against Kim Siyu wasn’t great before, but that game was definitely a comeback.”

Takahashi Yuki nodded. “What are you guys doing?”

“Reviewing Kaoru’s game yesterday against Iwagami Ken, 9-dan.”

The stocky youth asked, “Wanna join in?”

“Nah, you guys keep at it.”

Takahashi Yuki waved a hand and walked toward the desktop computer in the room, laughing as he spoke. “Just finished reviewing a game—now I really feel like playing. Time for an online match.”

“You and your online ego boosting.”

Someone joked. “Can’t get good results in real life, so you go beat up amateurs online to feel better?”

“Hey! Watch it, punk. Tons of pros play online, okay? Even Master An Hongshi plays on Nineteen.”

Takahashi rolled his eyes, sat down in the chair, booted up the computer, and logged into the Nineteen Go platform.

Just as he logged in and was about to start matchmaking, he paused.

His hand on the mouse froze.

“Zhuang Weisheng 10-dan—no, Tengen—in the National Master Tournament?”

He frowned and thought for a moment, then moved the mouse and clicked into the live stream.

“They’ve already played this many moves?”

Takahashi first glanced at the board. The game was well underway. Then he looked more closely.

When he saw that the board was currently frozen on White’s last move: the Diagonal Cap, he was instantly stunned.

His eyes locked on the screen, mind going blank.

“How’s it going, Takahashi? Matched a poor sucker yet?”

The long-haired youth turned and teased, “Wonder which unlucky soul just got paired with our Takahashi, 8-dan.”

But Takahashi didn’t respond. He just kept staring at the screen, dazed.

“Takahashi?”

The long-haired youth looked confused and walked over. When he followed Takahashi’s gaze to the screen—

He froze too.

“That move… the Diagonal Cap?”

Others in the room noticed the change in mood and soon crowded around Takahashi.

One by one, they stared at the monitor.

A creeping disbelief swept over everyone’s face—even Higashiyama Kaoru stared blankly at the screen.

The room fell into eerie silence.

A long moment passed before someone finally broke the silence, exclaiming in disbelief:

“That move is the Diagonal Cap?”

“This is the main bracket of the National Master Tournament! Who would play that?!”

“Who’s the opponent?”

“Who is it?!”

They all glanced at the livestream title.

When they saw who Zhuang Weisheng’s opponent was, another jolt went through them.

“Zhuang Weisheng, Tengen—versus...”

Higashiyama’s pupils contracted sharply as he stared at the title in bold characters.

“Yu Shao, 3-dan?!”

Their expressions all shifted.

Zhuang Weisheng—a name known worldwide, nearly synonymous with Go itself.

And now, he was playing against Yu Shao?

And Yu Shao played that Diagonal Cap?

“The Diagonal Cap joseki has been around forever, but...”

After a long silence, Takahashi Yuki muttered in disbelief:

“It’s universally accepted that it’s bad for White. A blunder. It’s been completely phased out.”

“Traditionally, it’s considered poor for three reasons: First, it gives the opponent a firm head in the center, giving up all potential for variations. Second, it lets the opponent build a perfect ‘Second-to-Third-Line’ structure, gaining edge advantage. Third, the corner gets exposed to a 3-3 invasion that can’t be defended. It’s a terrible trade.”

Silence.

They all knew that already. As pros, it was etched into their bones.

Diagonal Cap should never be played unless under very specific conditions.

And yet... Yu Shao just played it.

“Why?”

The long-haired youth asked. “What could possibly justify it? It makes no sense!”

Still no response.

Because that question... was on all their minds.

Why?!

This move shattered everything they knew.

After what felt like forever, a black stone finally landed on the screen.

Clack!

Column 6, Row 4 – Extend!

“Teacher Zhuang responded!”

The stocky youth gasped.

All eyes locked onto the screen. No one even blinked.

Soon after, White played again.

Black and White continued clashing on the board—neither side yielding, every move a killing stroke, played with ruthless precision.

Inside the Handtalk Room, Zhuang Weisheng stared at the board, eyes heavy with thought.

From a positional standpoint, White’s Diagonal Cap should have marked a turning point—Black should have gained the advantage.

But...

"Why... is there such a deep sense of unease in my heart?"

Zhuang Weisheng took a deep breath, glanced at Yu Shao, and quickly dropped another stone.

And the instant he did, Yu Shao followed with a move of his own.

Black vs. White—the battle raged!

“Teacher Zhuang is flawless. Every move strikes precisely at the Diagonal Cap’s weaknesses.”

Watching the board, Takahashi Yuki said, “White’s in real danger!”

“He won’t go down without a fight. If he dared to play the Diagonal Cap, he must have something planned! I don’t believe Yu Shao would play it unprepared!”

From within the group, Higashiyama Kaoru spoke up—his voice firm.

“But Teacher Zhuang is too precise. How could anyone have a follow-up here? Are you saying Yu Shao’s trying to overturn the entire Diagonal Cap theory?”

Someone scoffed. “This position hasn’t even spread to the whole board. There aren’t many variations. Sure, White’s playing decently, but where’s the counterattack?”

Higashiyama was briefly at a loss for words.

Finally, he locked his gaze onto the screen and said, “I don’t see it yet. But I believe... he’ll do something.”

Black and White stones continued to interweave, the flames of battle spreading across the small board—everyone held their breath.

“Wait!”

Suddenly, Takahashi Yuki’s body trembled.

Not just him—everyone behind him stared wide-eyed, frozen in shock.

“Teacher Zhuang played perfectly, every move flawless—but...”

The young man who had mocked Higashiyama earlier now looked dazed, sweat dripping down his temples.

As the game progressed, more and more hidden details came to light.

“Now that we look back—those previously ‘brilliant’ moves from Black, like that top-side extension... they’re inefficient due to surrounding stones!”

The buzz-cut youth’s eyelids twitched. “Even that edge-blocking stone? It’s just floating near White’s thickness, doing nothing!”

The stocky youth swallowed hard. “White lost sente—but don’t forget, he also stole a big point earlier!”

“In other words, the three classic downsides of the Diagonal Cap... have all turned into advantages!”

Takahashi Yuki slapped his own face, unable to believe his eyes. “Across the whole board... White profited?!”

“Why?!”

The long-haired youth was stunned. “If White had some brilliant tesuji, fine. But there’s none! And Black made no mistakes either! So WHY?!”

Silence.

The entire room was filled with disbelief. No one had answers.

Then, Higashiyama Kaoru finally spoke:

“Move order.”

Everyone turned to him.

He was also drenched in sweat, eyes fixed on the screen, and he said in awe:

“You have to notice—it was only after Black’s 3-3 invasion that White haned—that sequence was key. If White hane’d too early, Black might not have 3-3’d at all—he could’ve chosen another attack, like a direct peep!”

“Now that we look back—this entire post-Cap sequence... the so-called ‘bad’ moves have flipped into brilliance. Even after tenuki, White could defend—and Black’s extensions became redundant.”

He gulped and continued:

“Worst of all, the Diagonal Cap almost must be answered. And the resulting variations are...

inevitable.”

San Francisco, California.

“The cherub has unleashed the wrath of God!”

The blonde man was grabbing his hair, shouting at the screen in disbelief.

His entire understanding of Go was crumbling.

“The Diagonal Cap... it must be answered, right?! You can’t tenuki! And all the follow-ups—they’re forced! There's no choice!”

“Could it be... the Diagonal Cap is now unavoidable?!”

“Are we heading toward a future where players won’t even dare approach corners after a Star Point?”

...

Jiangling – Southern Go Association – Press Office.

Ding Huan stared at the screen, breathless, furiously scribbling notes.

“This is spine-chilling!”

“That Diagonal Cap shocked the world. Everyone thought: how crude!”

“Almost every Go teacher tells their students—Diagonal Cap lets the opponent build shape, exposes your corner, and ruins local efficiency. It’s a move that gets you scolded!”

“When I saw it, my first thought was—this must be a mistake.”

“But Yu Shao doesn’t care what others think!”

“Because it was Yu Shao who played it—I found myself wondering: could this move actually work?!”

“And then—White gave the answer!”

“This game, once again, Yu Shao put on a dazzling display of wizardry!”

“What traditional theory deemed bad—he flipped every bit of it!”

“I went from confusion, to shock, to absolute awe. I can’t even describe how I feel right now.”

“Improving at Go requires years of studying joseki, shapes, direction, positional judgment...”

“But even mastering all that isn’t enough to become a master.”

“Because what we study also traps us—limits our creativity!”

“The real challenge is letting go—embedding your thoughts into the stones, breaking free from right and wrong, and seeking the essence of Go—

the interplay of every stone.”

“That’s when you reach the realm of winning without moves.”

“Yu Shao’s play is never bound by convention. Every move is defined by results—that’s why he can play with such creativity.”

“In the history of Go, I believe there have been two defining eras.”

“The first—The Ancient Era.** Go was in its primitive form, with few joseki. No komi. Only whole-board handicap games.”**

“Shen Yi was the culmination of that era.”

“Not only did he go undefeated after age 23, he unified all past knowledge, bringing ancient Go to its final form. After his death, komi was introduced—he became the father of modern Go.”

“Post-Shen Yi, few focused on middle game fights. More players turned to opening study, and layouts began to flourish.”

“Famous patterns like the Double Star Point and Star-Komoku became widespread after that.”

“But much of Go theory still remained locked in idealized local positions.”

“The second era—The Korea-Japan Revolution.**”

“Not led by one person, but a wave of players who radically reimagined joseki—moves once dismissed as crude or bad.”

“But research proved otherwise. Many old patterns were flawed—used simply because masters had played them, not because they were sound.”

“This freed us. We started daring to try new things—ushering in a leap in local understanding.”

“Patterns like the Weisheng-style, Three Star Points—all born from this boldness.”

“Now, though, as Go has globalized and digitalized, the skill gap has shrunk. Innovation has grown difficult. Foundational knowledge is nearly unshakable.”

“But Go is vast—far beyond our current grasp. More complex than atoms in the universe.”

“Were our old theories ever truly right?”

“We never questioned it—what most believed must be correct.”

“But since Yu Shao arrived, I’ve begun to wonder: What if the ‘right’ was actually wrong?”

“When I look at Yu Shao’s games—I’m no longer sure.”

“What we thought was right turns out wrong. What we thought was wrong turns out right.”

“Yu Shao took that step—starting from the 3-3 point, to overturning Demon Blade and Avalanche, cutting down the Large Diagonal... and now this Diagonal Cap!”

“When I saw that move, I thought—has the Star Point Approach been invalidated?!”

“I don’t think so. Yu Shao still uses the Star Point Approach. But now—

how do you answer the Diagonal Cap?”

“I don’t know. Let the pros debate that.”

“Yu Shao’s been a pro for less than a year. But already, the world is watching him. He’s beyond what I imagined any player could be.”

“Regardless of age or strength—what he’s done is something many greats couldn’t achieve in a lifetime.”

“Maybe... just maybe—

Yu Shao can lead us into the third great leap in Go history.”

“Daring to play beyond traditional theory. Playing freely. Playing his own Go.”

“When I saw that Diagonal Cap... all I wanted to do—

was kneel and salute the player who dared to place that stone.”

“If there is a third era of Go—

then I believe...

Yu Shao will lead it.”