I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 245: I Am Not Alone This Time

Three days before the Battle for the Slot.

Southern Go Association, inside the review room.

Everyone was gathered around a Go board, continuously pulling stones from the Go bowl, placing them on the board, and analyzing a game.

“His judgment is spot-on, and his reading is incredibly deep. The sacrifice-to-conversion concept here is also brilliant.”

Le Haoqiang stared at the board with a serious expression and said gravely, “Zeng Jun really is strong. But just how strong… that’s hard to say.”

“Although he eventually lost this game to Master Ma Dong, the fact that he was able to force Ma Dong into nothing but a desperate defense…”

Zhou Wei also looked uneasy, muttering softly as he watched the board, “He might be a formidable opponent.”

The Chinese Go community and the Korean/Asian Go world have two special titles: National Master and Great Go Master. In Japan, their unique titles are Oza and Honinbo.

In Western Go circles, the two distinctive titles are Master and Goking—meaning "Grandmaster" and "Go King."

And Ma Dong, known as Master Ma Dong, is one of the strongest players in the U.S. His iconic quote, “The answer to Go isn’t on the board, but in the courage to risk everything,” still echoes through the global Go scene.

Over the past few days, the ten of them hadn’t been playing that many games. Even when they did, it was mostly blitz games, meant to sharpen their instincts in life-and-death moments. Most of their time was spent studying their Battle for the Slot opponents' game records.

After all, in just ten days, their Go strength couldn’t improve that much. But analyzing their opponents’ strategies? That could give them a real edge in the upcoming matches.

Though they’d heard Zeng Jun was strong, the fact that he could push Master Ma Dong into desperate defense was beyond what anyone expected.

Among the group, Yu Shao looked calmly at the board without saying a word.

“You guys are seriously hyping him up way too much.”

Suddenly, Qin Lang spoke up from the group.

He narrowed his long, sharp eyes, his tone icy. “Judging yourself as inferior just from a game record—without even playing a single move—isn’t that kind of laughable?”

Peng Zeyang was stunned for a second, then his face flashed with irritation. “We didn’t say that—”

“Yu Shao, let’s play another game.”

Qin Lang didn’t even acknowledge Peng Zeyang. He turned to Yu Shao and said directly, “One more round!”

Yu Shao pulled his gaze away from the board, glanced at Qin Lang, and gave a light nod. “Alright.”

The two of them quickly sat down at a Go table, faced each other, determined turn order, greeted—and the game began.

Watching this, Peng Zeyang looked pissed. He turned to Le Haoqiang and swore, “Who the hll said we’re weaker than Zeng Jun? F**ing joke.”

Le Haoqiang stared silently at Yu Shao and Qin Lang, who had already begun placing stones.

Though no one had outright said it, plenty of them had probably thought it.

He himself was one of them.

“What Qin Lang said just now probably wasn’t directed at anyone else. He was talking to himself.”

“I had that same thought too, just for a split second—and I felt ashamed and angry.”

“But you—who never had that thought—treat it like it’s just natural!”

Thinking of that, Ma Zhengyu gritted his teeth. He remembered the eight slow games he played against Su Yiming over the past few days—he only won one. Meanwhile, Jie Junwan had taken two wins.

And to think, Che Wenyu used to not even be his match…

Le Haoqiang suddenly looked up at Su Yiming. “Su Yiming—play me again!”

Hearing that, Su Yiming was briefly surprised. Then he looked up from the board at Le Haoqiang and nodded.

“Zhou Wei, let’s go for a game?”

Gu Chuan also lifted his head, eyes blazing, and said to Zhou Wei.

“Sure.”

Zhou Wei nodded without hesitation.

Soon, the review room was once again filled with the steady sound of stones hitting the board.

Before long, Le Haoqiang stared at the board, took a deep breath, and lowered his head. “I lost.”

“You focused too much on enclosing the corner and edge, and ignored development in the center.”

Su Yiming moved stones as he explained, “Even though your fighting here was beautiful and gave you a slight lead, from a whole-board perspective, you were already falling behind...”

Le Haoqiang listened closely, eyes fixed on the board.

“If you had pressed down here, the battle line would’ve been much longer. These black stones look like they lack potential, but in the mid-to-late game, they’d shine unexpectedly. The board position would’ve remained even…” Su Yiming continued.

Then, Le Haoqiang suddenly asked, “You’ve studied a lot of Shen Yi’s game records, haven’t you?”

Su Yiming paused immediately.

He looked at Le Haoqiang, smiled faintly, and nodded. “Yes, I’ve studied a lot—very deeply.”

“No wonder.”

Le Haoqiang didn’t seem surprised. He nodded, then after a brief hesitation, asked, “But... while Shen Yi’s games are worth studying, don’t you think your playing style is imitating him a bit too deliberately?”

“If your opponents dive deep into Shen Yi’s records, they might figure out how to beat you.”

Su Yiming fell silent.

Le Haoqiang frowned slightly, confused.

But then Su Yiming looked back at him and said firmly, “Shen Yi’s games were always meant for the world to see—and for that day to come—”

“The day he gets defeated.”

Le Haoqiang froze.

Su Yiming lowered his head again and continued reviewing the game. “This flying move of mine here... looking at it now, it was a bit too slow. Your peep was a brilliant counter.”

—

Not long after, the review room door suddenly swung open, and a tall, burly middle-aged man strode in.

“Chairman Ma.”

Someone in the room called out the moment they saw him.

Hearing the name, everyone immediately stopped playing and turned to look. Even Yu Shao glanced up.

Ma Zhengyu, Vice Chairman of the Go Association, wouldn’t have come without something important to say.

He swept his gaze across the room, pausing slightly on Yu Shao and Su Yiming, then cleared his throat. “Thanks for your hard work, everyone.”

“There are only three days left until the Battle for the Slot.”

“As you all know, this isn’t just any event. Once it begins, it’ll draw nationwide attention. It carries enormous significance.”

He paused before continuing, “Though you should already know the rules, I’ll formally go over them once more.”

“Each player will have five hours of main time, with one-minute byo-yomi (overtime countdown). Every match is an ultra-slow game, so each one takes nearly a whole day.”

“There are no rest days in the tournament. After winning a match, the victor must continue playing the next day, defending the board until they’re finally defeated.”

“In other words, aside from sleeping, all your time will be spent on Go. So this isn’t just a test of your strength—but also your focus, willpower, and endurance!”

Everyone’s expressions grew heavier. A thick pressure filled the room. The mood turned solemn.

“This isn’t just about your personal win or loss anymore—it’s about the victory or defeat of the entire Chinese Go community. And that kind of pressure… not everyone can handle it.”

Ma Zhengyu seemed to sense the atmosphere and said solemnly, “But you’re different. You’ve already proven with your skills that you’re the ten best young Go players of your generation.”

“So I believe you’ll all play with brilliance!”

He paused, then continued, “In this event, two positions are especially critical—the first player to go, and the final anchor.”

“If we can win the opening match and build momentum with a streak of victories, it’ll be a huge morale boost for our team—and a huge blow to the opponents.”

“But defending the board day after day is exhausting. No one can endure it endlessly. So the last anchor player is just as vital.”

Ma Zhengyu looked around the room. “The first and final players will be either Yu Shao or Su Yiming. Any objections?”

The room fell dead silent.

Objections?

Who would dare?

Even if someone did, what good would it do?

The game they played in the finals was so astounding, it made even the most seasoned Go pros bow their heads. To this day, they could still feel the killing intent embedded in that game, still hear the thunderous sound of those decisive moves.

Among peers, that game had left everyone shaken. No one had dared mention it in days, as if the game had never happened.

But just because they didn’t talk about it didn’t mean it had vanished.

Ever since that game, fewer and fewer pros around the world had been using the Point-88 opening. The move had gone from being questioned to actively experimented with.

But the real issue wasn’t Point-88 itself—it was how that move upended Go’s core philosophy on thickness and thinness.

If Point-88 holds up through a few more practical games, then the game Yu Shao and Su Yiming played wouldn’t just be a legendary match—

It would change the course of Go history.

Even if they were reluctant, they had to admit: in this Battle, they had to avoid burning out the first player and preserve strength for the final showdown.

Seeing no one speak, Che Wenyu nodded with satisfaction. He glanced at Zeng Jun, then at Jie Junwan, and joked, “So, who wants to be anchor, and who’s going first?”

Just as Jie Junwan was about to respond—

Zeng Jun cut in.

“You go first.”

All eyes immediately turned toward Yu Shao.

Even Ma Zhengyu looked a bit surprised. “You want to go first?”

While both the first and anchor players are crucial, as the Hero’s Pride Cup champion, it made more sense for Yu Shao to be the anchor.

“Yes.”

Yu Shao glanced at Su Yiming, then looked back at Ma Zhengyu and nodded calmly. “I don’t want to anchor. It’s too much pressure.”

This scene—Yu Shao knew it too well.

If he were the anchor, he’d be burdened with the hopes of the whole nation. He’d lived with that pressure in his previous life. It forced him to play it safe, never risking anything, always sticking to what he knew best.

But this time around, he wanted to hone his attack and kill skills through life-and-death combat—not just play for a guaranteed win.

If he were the anchor, the real problem wouldn’t just be playing—it would be: should he go all-out?

This battle wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about the entire country.

He didn’t have a choice in his past life.

But in this life—

He could fall. Because this time, he wasn’t alone.