The young man stared at An Hongshi, opening his mouth but remaining speechless for a long moment.

"Master An Hongshi, have you... changed?" After a lengthy silence, the young man finally spoke.

"Changed?" An Hongshi smiled faintly, appearing somewhat puzzled.

"Nowadays, all Go players are learning from Yu Shao, myself included." After another pause, the young man continued, "Truthfully, Yu Shao has never participated in a world championship. Even though he's won titles in China, in a sense, he still can't be considered a true top-tier player."

"Only the world championship can truly prove a player's worth."

"But because his game records are so revolutionary and astonishing, everyone already regards him as a top player and learns from him, despite his lack of world championship achievements."

"However, no player has ever done what you've done." The young man hesitated before adding, "If you hadn't called me first, I would have sworn that 'shiau' was Yu Shao. The playing styles are too similar."

"Is that a bad thing?" An Hongshi smiled gently. "Between Go players, we shouldn't just be opponents, but also friends who learn from each other and progress together."

"But... but..." The young man struggled for words before finally saying, "Learning from Yu Shao's style is fine, but learning and imitating are two different things. You're An Hongshi, the Go Sage!"

An Hongshi chuckled in response. "Perhaps precisely because I am An Hongshi?"

The young man froze in shock.

"You might find it hard to believe," An Hongshi continued calmly, "but when the world championship begins again, I suspect we'll see many players resembling Yu Shao."

"Yu Shao's playing style has brought nearly revolutionary changes to modern Go."

"Players like Kimura Go and Hans aren't ordinary talents—they must have realized this too."

"If I told you that failing to emulate Yu Shao means elimination in the world championship, would you believe me?"

The young man was completely dumbfounded. Had anyone else said this, he would have immediately refuted it. But these words came from An Hongshi, the world's top Go player, leaving him momentarily speechless.

Still, the young man gathered his courage to say, "Elimination for not being like Yu Shao? That's... too exaggerated."

"I don't think it's exaggerated." An Hongshi shook his head calmly while looking at the young man. "I've been following Yu Shao since his Torch Battle days."

"At first, I merely regarded him as a maverick genius. But as more of his game records emerged, I realized that wasn't the case."

"Many believe Yu Shao's strength lies in his shocking, unimaginable moves like the 3-3 point invasion, diagonal approaches, or shoulder hits against the corner. But I think differently."

"Focusing only on those aspects means one will never truly be Yu Shao's match."

The young man looked at An Hongshi in confusion.

"His methods of reducing influence, invasion techniques, depth of penetration... all differ fundamentally from conventional thinking. This isn't just a difference in playing style—it's a difference in understanding Go itself."

An Hongshi pondered for a moment before opening the go bowl beside his computer, picking up a black stone and placing it slowly.

Clack!

With a crisp sound, the black stone landed decisively at the very center of the board—the tengen point.

"Tengen?" The young man stared at the board, bewildered.

Without explanation, An Hongshi continued placing stones, quickly forming a relatively simple black-and-white confrontation in the center.

"Take this local position as an example." An Hongshi studied the board before them. "Who do you think has the advantage?"

The young man frowned slightly, examining the board before answering after some thought: "White."

"Why do you think white has the advantage?" An Hongshi simply asked for the reasoning behind his judgment.

"Isn't it obvious?" The young man seemed puzzled but answered honestly. "Black's center position is too thin, surrounded on all sides by white's strong groups. I can't see any reason why white wouldn't have the advantage."

An Hongshi smiled without comment, picking up another black stone to place before asking, "Now who has the advantage?"

"Still white?" The young man appeared confused. "Even if black strengthens here, it's still difficult to escape white's encirclement."

"But what if I told you I think black has the advantage?" An Hongshi asked.

"That's ridiculous!" The young man couldn't contain himself. "How could black possibly have the advantage?"

"What if I said I wasn't reinforcing—I was rescuing isolated stones? That actually white's position is thinner here and should be punished?" An Hongshi pressed further.

Hearing this, the young man stared at the board with utter disbelief. While An Hongshi's argument had some logic if forced, everyone could see it was clearly sophistry. White was obviously attacking black—how could black be attacking white?

Seeming to read the young man's thoughts, An Hongshi pushed the bowl of white stones toward him. "Then you play white, and I'll play black."

Taking the bowl hesitantly, the young man studied the board with a frown before finally placing a stone.

As the young man made his move, An Hongshi promptly responded with black.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

The sound of stones hitting the board echoed through the room repeatedly. As more stones were placed and the game grew increasingly complex, an expression of profound disbelief spread across the young man's face.

Soon, An Hongshi placed another black stone.

"This..." Seeing this move, beads of sweat formed on the young man's forehead as he stubbornly continued playing white.

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

"How is this possible..." After several more exchanges, seeing An Hongshi's latest move, the young man gritted his teeth but kept playing white.

Within moments, after seven or eight more moves, the young man simply stared at the board, no longer making moves.

Finally, after a long silence, he spoke hoarsely with disbelief: "The offense and defense... reversed?"

An Hongshi remained silent, quietly observing the board before finally saying, "Many believe Yu Shao's appearance has revolutionized Go."

"They think he's overturned certain moves, techniques, established patterns, or variations."

"That's certainly true."

Pausing, An Hongshi looked at the devastated young man before him. "But if that's all they've realized, they've only seen the surface."

"This revolution concerns everything about Go."

"In the past, what we believed to be correct was correct. But after Yu Shao emerged, I began to doubt—is what we consider correct truly correct?"

"Everything once certain has become uncertain."

"This uncertainty isn't about individual moves like the 3-3 point invasion, nor about specific variations like the Ghost Blade pattern's push—it's about the entire board."

"This is the greatest revolution Yu Shao has brought to modern Go."

"Whether Yu Shao's moves are actually correct is far less important than this realization. Even if only half his methods prove right, they've already overturned everything about Go."

The young man remained in a daze, staring blankly at the board, his mind utterly empty and unable to process thoughts.

"You asked why I've become so similar to Yu Shao?" An Hongshi looked up at his laptop nearby. "Actually, this was inspired by that opponent I met online."

"He's clearly deeply influenced by Yu Shao. Playing against him feels distinctly different from other opponents—not just in playing style, but in some indescribable way."

"This difference put tremendous pressure on me. Even after winning, I felt profoundly shaken."

"After that game, I began studying Yu Shao's game records more deeply—from his debut to the Twin Stars Cup, even up to the recent Torch Battle."

An Hongshi smiled slightly. "I've studied Yu Shao's games almost daily, reviewing each one over a hundred times."

"Although I've thoroughly analyzed these games, I always felt I was still seeing flowers through fog—some things remained unclear."

"Then one day, an idea struck me."

"What if I started viewing every game from a perspective of complete negation?"

Hearing this, the young man stiffly raised his head to look at An Hongshi, mumbling, "Complete... negation?"

"Exactly." An Hongshi gazed at the board with shining eyes. "Whenever I thought I had the advantage in a variation, I would consider the opposite—"

"That perhaps I wasn't actually ahead. From what angle might I actually be losing?"

"Of course this seems absurd, especially in certain positions where I struggled to find any reason to consider myself at a disadvantage."

"If I voiced these reasons, everyone would surely find them ridiculous and laughable."

"But when I actually tried this approach, I discovered many of these seemingly absurd reasons actually... might not be invalid after all."

The young man was completely stunned.

Looking at the local position he'd just played, his vision seemed to blur. He'd been racking his brain trying to identify which move had caused the reversal, but couldn't pinpoint any decisive mistake. A few questionable moves perhaps, but nothing that should have turned victory into defeat.

Now the answer became clear—perhaps he'd never actually had the advantage from the beginning?

That black had been attacking white all along, not the other way around?!

"Of course, these reasons don't always hold." An Hongshi smiled. "Initially, these awkward justifications led to many embarrassing moments. Fortunately, my opponents weren't strong then, and I ultimately won."

"Later, I revisited Yu Shao's game records and gradually gained new insights."

An Hongshi exhaled slowly. "The more I understood Yu Shao, the more I felt a new world opening before me."

"I once thought Yu Shao's Go was transformative for the game. Now I believe it's actually revolutionary."

"But this realization remains beyond most players' grasp."

An Hongshi looked at the young man. "You think my current style resembles Yu Shao's because you're still viewing Go through conventional lenses—you only see our shared innovations."

"But if you completely abandon conventional perspectives to examine my Go, you'll find fundamental differences between my play and Yu Shao's."

The young man was utterly speechless.

An Hongshi's words rang like a massive bell by his ears, leaving them buzzing. As a 9-dan professional, he found himself questioning his entire life's work—something no player should experience.

Like all players, he'd been learning from Yu Shao—studying his moves, his new understanding of thickness and thinness, those novel variations. But he'd never considered completely opposing conventional wisdom to analyze games. Not only was the idea itself unbelievable, but more importantly, this was the world he'd devoted his life to!

"Perhaps it's not just most people..." After a long silence, the young man finally spoke with difficulty. "Except for you, probably no one... would think this way."

"No." An Hongshi shook his head with a smile. "That would be underestimating Kimura Go, Shinwa, Zhuang Weisheng and others."

"Especially after Yu Shao won his title, they must have been reviewing all his past games day and night."

"Progress may vary, but I guarantee if they appear in the world championship, their performances will astonish everyone."

"And all of this... was bestowed by Yu Shao."

An Hongshi chuckled wryly. "Not facing Yu Shao immediately is actually fortunate. If I'd met him earlier, I probably wouldn't have stood a chance."

Hearing this, the young man finally snapped out of his daze.

Suddenly remembering something, he quickly asked, "Master An Hongshi, will you compete in this year's Phoenix Cup World Championship?"

"Of course." An Hongshi smiled. "I haven't participated in years, and many new talents have emerged—geniuses like Yu Shao and Su Yiming."

"If I skip this year's championship, people might forget there was ever a player called An Hongshi, don't you think?"