Yu Shao left the Go Association and quickly returned to the hotel, finally letting out a breath of relief.

“I’ve made it into the challenge round. Next up... is the final title match.”

He glanced at the AI self-play board setup still on the hotel table. His eyes were complicated as he murmured, “Unknowingly, I’ve returned to this familiar position again.”

In his past life, he had been through title matches more than once. It was a best-of-seven match, and he remembered it vividly. Every single move of those seven games was etched deeply in his memory.

He had been the same age back then—seventeen. It had been a grueling battle, ending in a 3–3 tie before a winner was finally decided in the decider.

“Though the age is the same, some things… are completely different.”

Yu Shao stared at the Go board, his emotions mixed.

In his previous life, he was known for his unshakable composure and calm territorial control. He used reductions and exchanges to seize territory in seemingly invisible ways—winning without direct confrontation.

But in this life, he had arrived at the same destination through a completely opposite path.

A path defined by aggressive combat—thriving on imbalance and sacrifices, surviving isolation battles and ko fights, seeking winning chances amid danger and dead-or-alive scenarios. It was a perilous path full of razor edges!

Now, he was walking back to the same place he once stood—but with a style completely inverted from his past.

In his previous life, no one would’ve dared imagine such a transformation.

By now, he had grown entirely used to this new playing style. He’d been reborn as a different kind of player altogether.

“I can clearly feel that I’m much stronger now than I was when I first started playing this way. If it were the old me playing today’s game… I would’ve definitely lost.”

Yu Shao finally looked away from the board and gazed out the window.

“Walking this path, how far can I really go?”

“Can I overcome my weaknesses, surpass my past self, and reach heights I never touched before?”

Just then, his phone suddenly rang, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Yu Shao picked it up and glanced at the caller ID. He looked a little surprised.

Ma Zhengyu?

Why would Ma Zhengyu be calling him?

Yu Shao quickly answered, “Hello? Chairman Ma?”

“Yu Shao?”

Ma Zhengyu’s voice immediately came through, sounding quite excited. “I watched your game today—it was f***ing amazing! Congratulations on qualifying for the National Hand Title Challenge!”

“Thanks.”

Yu Shao chuckled and thanked him.

“Hahaha, a true prodigy! The younger generation really is incredible!”

Ma Zhengyu sounded elated. After all, each regional division was competitive, and Yu Shao came from the Southern Region. With him entering the title challenge, it was a proud moment.

“He’s made it to the challenge now, but if he actually wins the title, it’s gonna shake the heavens!”

Jiang Changdong chimed in cheerfully, “The National Hand challenge is no small matter—eight rounds in total. I hope we get to see an even more spectacular performance from him there!”

Yu Shao smiled and replied, “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

“I believe in you. You’ve got this.”

On the other end, Ma Zhengyu laughed, then added, “By the way, since you’ve entered the challenge, there are some things I need to inform you about.”

Yu Shao straightened up slightly. “Go ahead.”

“For the National Hand Challenge, each game will be held in a different city. You’ll be staying in five-star luxury hotels, and during the matches, the organizers will serve you local delicacies. In Go media, we jokingly call this the ‘victory meal.’”

He added with a playful tone, “The first game will be held in the capital, so you’ll need to fly over for that one.”

“That’s no trouble at all—I’m more than happy to ‘suffer’ that kind of inconvenience.”

Yu Shao laughed. “Anything else besides that?”

“Well, before the challenge starts, we’ll need your help filming a short promotional video.”

Ma Zhengyu continued, “After all, the title match is the highest level of domestic Go competition now. We have to shoot a promo for it. That part might actually be a bit of a hassle.”

Yu Shao wasn’t surprised to hear that.

He’d heard of Go promotional videos before. In his past life, they didn’t exist, but in this world, Go was the biggest mind sport. A tournament at the level of a title match attracted global attention, so promos were a given.

Some major world tournaments even invited famous singers to perform theme songs—just like the World Cup.

One particular Go world championship theme song had gone viral and was still trending on KTV playlists.

“What kind of footage do they shoot for these promos?”

Yu Shao thought about it and asked, “I’m a bit worried I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“Hahaha, don’t worry about that at all.”

Ma Zhengyu clearly understood what Yu Shao was concerned about and reassured him with a laugh, “No one expects Go players to act! We know that’s not your strong suit—don’t worry, you won’t even have lines. You’ll just sit in front of the board and play.”

“The purpose of the promo is to capture the feel of an epic showdown. With music and lighting, it builds an atmosphere. The final cut’s only about a minute. You can check out past title match promos online—they’re actually quite simple.”

“Oh, and the person directing your promo? He’s a big-name director.”

Ma Zhengyu teased, deliberately pausing mid-sentence.

“A big-name director?” Yu Shao chuckled, amused. “Who?”

“Ever seen Red Flutter? The director of that movie is handling this year’s National Hand promo.”

Ma Zhengyu could barely hide his pride.

Yu Shao was genuinely surprised to hear that.

Red Flutter was one of the most famous films in the world. Of course, he’d seen it. The director had won numerous domestic and international awards—he was one of the hottest directors in the country.

“A director like that… for a Go promo?”

Yu Shao couldn’t help but feel puzzled.

“Excuse me—Yu Shao, 3-dan, mind your phrasing!”

Ma Zhengyu chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “Every year, top directors actively apply to shoot the title match promos. They don’t even ask for pay. Getting to shoot a title match promo is a mark of prestige for a director.”

“Prestige? Isn’t that a bit exaggerated?”

Yu Shao couldn’t help but click his tongue. It seemed a bit much.

“You have to understand—this is China’s title match. The title matches in China, Japan, and Korea represent the absolute peak of global Go!”

Ma Zhengyu said with pride, “While every country has their own titles, only those of China, Japan, and Korea draw the entire world’s attention!”

“Chairman Ma, with the way you’re talking, I’m starting to feel the pressure.”

Yu Shao said with a smile.

“Pressure? What pressure? You’ve only been a pro for a year, and you’ve already made it this far. Even if you lose in the end, it’s still a huge achievement—let alone with your level of skill.”

Ma Zhengyu suddenly became serious. After a pause, he said, “Ding Huan once told me, a new era of Go is coming. And that era will be led by you.”

Hearing that, Yu Shao was momentarily stunned.

Ma Zhengyu took a deep breath and continued, “Honestly, I used to think that sounded way too exaggerated. Deep down, I felt like… maybe you weren’t quite there.”

“It’s not that I didn’t believe in you—it’s just that the claim was too grand.”

Yu Shao didn’t know how to respond.

Ma Zhengyu continued talking:

“There’ve only been two eras in Go. The first was Shen Yi—he was the culmination of ancient Go. After he pushed the ancient game to its peak, the komi system started to form.”

“The second era was the Japan-Korea era, when komi had become a standard rule. Opening theory flourished, and research became more advanced than ever.”

“The third era…”

“Even though I admire your play and am blown away by every game you play, deep down, I still felt—who are you to carry the next era? When someone so close to you gets associated with such lofty things, it just feels unreal.”

“Maybe it’s human nature. We want the people around us to do well—but not too well. So I was kind of resistant to the idea. It felt like too much praise.”

He chuckled. “But after watching today’s game, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Your play… was truly incredible.”

“I’m old enough to be your dad, but I found myself feeling admiration toward you.”

“I’ve seen so, so many games. A lot of matches that others find exciting no longer move me.”

“But your games are different.”

“Every move you make shocks me. Each one draws me in with its depth and brilliance—I want to keep watching, again and again.”

“That’s why I’m finally convinced—Ding Huan was right. I’ve seen the future of Go!”

Meanwhile, in Donghai City.

Jiang Changdong stared at the board in front of him. After a long pause, he finally spoke:

“Li You lost. Next up…”

He paused again before continuing, “Only I remain.”

Across from him, Chu Jingfeng remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the Go board.

“This move—he went too far.”

Jiang Changdong pointed at a black stone on the board and said, “He didn’t reinforce here, instead choosing to tenuki, assuming White had no means in the center.”

“Or rather, he believed that even if White had something, he could find some forcing moves using the dead stones.”

“He’s played like this many times before—moves that seem overly aggressive, and yet each time, results proved him right.”

Jiang Changdong continued slowly, “But today’s game… was different.”

“He was wrong.”

He pointed to a white stone elsewhere and said steadily, “White’s wedge here—it was a stroke of genius, a move that stunned the world. It flipped the whole board. Black couldn’t actually make use of the dead stones.”

“If Black hadn’t been so aggressive with that tenuki, White wouldn’t have had the chance. His play was too overbearing—fierce but lacking finesse.”

Jiang Changdong muttered to himself, though it seemed he was also speaking to Chu Jingfeng:

“Yu Shao’s style completely defies convention. He constantly does what no one expects—like invading 3-3, that insane forcing cut, or the pointed apex move…”

“Because all those things were later proven to work, almost every player—including me—has fallen into self-doubt.”

“What we thought was right—was it really right?”

“After watching Yu Shao play, we realized… maybe not.”

“What we believed to be correct—was it really correct?”

“Everything we’ve built our understanding of Go on might be wrong. For a player, that’s a collapse of one’s entire worldview. What if all the Go we’ve played up to now has been wrong?”

“If someone has studied Go for twenty years, and Yu Shao’s games overturn everything they know—their positional judgment, their strategic conclusions—it’s like seeing a completely different truth on the same board.”

“For example, on the same board, most people might think Black is attacking. But in Yu Shao’s eyes, it’s White that should be on the offensive.”

“Because Yu Shao has never lost a game—not once—so we can only assume he’s right.”

“And that overwhelming sense of doubt, coupled with the absence of clear answers, causes most players to second-guess themselves when facing Yu Shao. They hold back and fail to play at their best.”

“But today’s game finally proved one thing—”

“Some of what he does is right. But some of it—he’s wrong.”

“Today’s game showed that overly aggressive, unreasonable play… isn’t correct. It provokes a level of complexity that, eventually—”

“Will be punished.”

After Jiang Changdong’s speech, Chu Jingfeng sat in silence for a moment before suddenly speaking:

“That game may be as you say. But, Jiang Changdong, when Li You played that wedge…”

“You didn’t see it either, did you?”

“If he hadn’t found that wedge—then maybe Yu Shao was right. He overlooked that move—or maybe everyone did. Only Li You saw it.”

“Otherwise, that one move wouldn’t still be causing such a frenzy online.”

Jiang Changdong didn’t deny it. He nodded and said:

“That move definitely deserves to be remembered. But in my eyes, its brilliance isn’t just in the move itself.”

“It’s that—it finally exposed a flaw in Yu Shao’s play.”

He slowly reached into the Go bowl, pinched a stone, and placed it swiftly onto the board.

“I didn’t see that wedge either. Only the one in the game could truly perceive the subtleties of the board.”

“So then—let’s settle this on the title match stage.”

“I’ll be waiting for that day.”