I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 253: Relentless Slashes, Defeating Every Hero

As Xia Wen’s voice fell, the internet erupted after a moment of stunned silence. At the Southern Go Association, many professional players watching the livestream couldn’t help but burst into cheers.

“He won!”

“Two in a row!”

“Yu Shao takes another game!”

This match wasn’t as exquisite as yesterday’s. There were no clever tactics, no masterful plays—the attacks could even be called crude. It was pure brute force that bulldozed the board.

Yet the commotion it stirred up was no less than yesterday’s.

Yesterday’s divine conversion stunned everyone with its invisible finesse. But today’s match, which abandoned all cleverness in favor of victory by strength, intimidated everyone.

Even with the American team’s Review Room doors tightly shut, the thunderous cheers were still clearly audible.

Hearing the noise, everyone inside the room looked frustrated or tense—except for Ma Dong, who remained composed.

“This game was won through brute strength. Duncan’s calculation and intuition weren’t far off from his, but... the difference in overall board vision was immense.”

Ma Dong glanced down at the board and said, “In that aspect, Duncan was completely crushed.”

The mood in the room immediately grew heavier.

Everyone knew Ma Dong was right.

In this game, Yu Shao had made several slow moves in his pursuit of thickness.

But because his sense of the whole board was far superior, even when Duncan made sharp local counterattacks, he couldn’t shift the balance.

Worse yet, Duncan hadn’t even found the most optimal counterattacks in those local fights. So when Yu Shao completed his thick formation, White had no answer left.

Yu Shao used the flow from the 8-8 Point to stir up a storm across the board, sweeping aside White’s formation like a blade through dry grass.

It was the kind of sword forged from global perspective and precision—seemingly simple, yet devastating.

If your calculation and intuition matched his, you could still hold your ground. But if you fell short, that “simple” sword became a heavy blade with no edge—blunt and unstoppable.

“Tomorrow it’s Ma Rui.”

Zeng Jun looked toward a chubby blond man in the crowd.

Hearing this, Ma Rui exhaled a long breath, nodded, and opened his mouth—when suddenly, a firm and resonant voice cut in:

“Zeng Jun-sensei, you play tomorrow!”

Everyone turned to look.

A young man with wavy chestnut hair and brown eyes stood there, his expression conflicted as he looked at Zeng Jun. “We’ve already lost two in a row—let you go next!”

Zeng Jun frowned, then quickly shook his head. “No.”

The chestnut-haired youth opened his mouth again, trying to argue, but Zeng Jun’s face darkened.

He turned to Ma Dong and said sternly, “Your goal is to win the entire match, not to act on emotion.”

“What do two losses mean?”

“Even if my skill is weaker, the longer the Contested Game goes on, the more our team will understand his playstyle. Besides, he’ll only get more fatigued.”

“If it’s not me, then it should be Qin Lang, Che Wenyu, or Le Haoqiang. All of them are dangerous opponents. Not to mention Su Yiming. We need our top three to stay up front—to win the war.”

Ma Rui still looked frustrated, but after hesitating, he said nothing more and stepped back.

The others in the room glanced at Zeng Jun and the others, finally feeling a bit more at ease.

If Zeng Jun, Ma Rui, and Lu Yihong were saved for the later rounds, then even if the team lost all the way up to that point, those three alone might still sweep through the opposition!

And honestly—how likely was it that they’d lose all the way down to the last three?

“Eddie, he’s already played two games in a row. His state is bound to dip in the third. You’ve got a real shot.”

Ma Dong turned to Eddie, the chubby blond player, and said, “His understanding of the 3-3 Point is deep. If he plays it again, be cautious. Don’t let it break your rhythm.”

Eddie nodded firmly, confidence surging back. “Got it. Don’t worry.”

...

...

The next day arrived quickly.

That morning, the American team’s professional players returned to the Review Room. They stood around the Go board, staring at the screen, waiting for the third match to begin.

Meanwhile, thousands of viewers across the globe sat in front of their TVs and computers, hearts faintly anxious.

Judging from past Contested Games, the first match was always played in peak condition. The second could usually be held steady.

But from the third match onward, performance would typically begin to drop—and the later the match, the steeper the drop.

Even though Eddie wasn’t one of the American team’s strongest, no one could say for sure whether Yu Shao could continue this winning streak.

Soon, the game began.

Yu Shao (Black) vs. Eddie (White).

“He opened on the Star Point.”

Seeing Yu Shao’s opening at the upper-right Star Point, the American players instantly mirrored the move on their board: Column 16, Row 4 — Star Point.

Moments later, White made his move:

Column 16, Row 17 — Small Point.

“Eddie played the Small Point. That means Yu Shao can’t 3-3 now.”

Someone in the crowd chuckled.

Zeng Jun didn’t respond. He picked up a white stone and placed it at the lower-right Small Point, then turned back to the screen to wait for Black’s next move.

Soon enough, the screen showed Black’s next move:

Column 4, Row 4 — Star Point.

Moments later, White responded:

Column 4, Row 16 — Star Point.

Everyone saw Yu Shao play another Star Point. Just as they reached into the bowl to place their practice move, the screen showed Yu Shao placing another stone:

Column 8, Row 11 — 8-8 Point!

“Another 3-3!”

Expressions shifted across the room.

“Is that all he knows?”

A young player scoffed, “Every one of his recorded games has a 3-3—no matter Black or White. Not one exception. It’s like he doesn’t know how to play anything else.”

Zeng Jun gave the youth a sidelong glance and said calmly, “Yet not a single one of those games... has a loss.”

The room went quiet.

The young man’s face turned red, as if something had caught in his throat. He had nothing to say.

After a moment, he scowled at Zeng Jun. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sensing a quarrel brewing, others quickly stepped in to mediate.

“Alright, alright. Ma Rui, I’m sure Zeng Jun didn’t mean anything by it—he’s just saying we need to take that 3-3 seriously.”

“Yeah, he’s not wrong. Whether or not that’s the only move Yu Shao knows, the fact is—he’s never lost with it.”

“Let’s all cool off. The real enemy’s out there. Zeng Jun, maybe try not to sound like you’re defending him.”

Hearing this, Ma Rui snorted. “So what, is he gonna win forever just using 3-3? He’s already played two matches—his energy has to be dropping. There’s no guarantee he can win this one.”

“Enough!”

Ma Dong finally frowned and spoke up. “Ma Rui, ease up. Just focus on the game.”

With that, Ma Rui grudgingly shut his mouth and turned his eyes back to the screen.

After Black’s 3-3 invasion, this time White didn’t play the usual block-then-hane sequence. Instead, he chose the same response Su Yiming had used in the Hero’s Pride Cup finals: a sequence involving extending directly.

In the Review Room, the players started replicating the moves and discussing the potential variations.

Time passed.

At first, Ma Rui’s face remained calm—but gradually, his expression began to change.

“No way...”

Ma Rui stared at the board in disbelief. “I thought that Black’s jump was a slack move—but...”

“But the follow-up turned out to be incredibly light and efficient! He fully utilized the synergy of his earlier 3-3 and this jump—it all links up brilliantly!”

The others also wore stunned expressions as they continued playing through the variations.

“If Eddie tries to capture this Black stone, it can be sacrificed at any time. Spending too many moves on it just isn’t worth it.”

“But... if he doesn’t kill it, it becomes a stone-in-the-throat for White!”

A few moments later, after White made a long-considered move, Zeng Jun’s eyes narrowed, and he said gravely:

“This is bad. Eddie’s flustered.”

“White has left a subtle weakness on the left. I don’t know if Black has noticed.”

“If he has, and plays a peep at White’s cutting point next—White’s position is going to hurt!”

And right as Zeng Jun finished speaking, the screen showed Yu Shao placing his move—

Click!

As soon as the words “Column 13, Row 7 — Peep!” echoed in the Review Room, the entire place fell into dead silence.

On the TV screen, black and white stones continued to fall.

Logically, the more complex a board position became, the livelier the discussion should get. But now, it was the opposite—the more complex the game got, the quieter the room became.

After gaining an advantage, Black’s follow-up sequence was ruthless—completely ignoring his own cutting points and launching a relentless assault on White’s weaknesses, forcefully denying White eye space!

White attempted a counterattack, but it was as if Black had already read through the entire life-and-death sequence and didn’t even care. Then, with precise timing, Black executed a clean kill on White’s vital Go shape!

Now, White’s Large Dragon was in danger—fleeing and fighting for survival!

Watching White's dragon struggling to live, everyone in the Review Room couldn’t help but feel a chill in their hearts.

Finally, after who knew how long...

Silence.

Ma Dong stared at the TV screen. After a long pause, he said slowly:

“Eddie... also lost.”

Upon hearing that, Ma Rui clenched his jaw, his eyelid twitching wildly.

Since Eddie lost, then tomorrow, Yu Shao’s next opponent... would be him!

The others in the room obviously realized this too. They all turned to look at Ma Rui, and couldn’t help but recall what he had said earlier:

“What, is he just going to keep winning with 3-3 forever?”

...

...

Handtalk Room

After placing two white stones on the board to concede, Eddie bowed deeply to Yu Shao, his blond hair hiding his face—making it impossible to see his expression.

“Thank you for the game.”

Yu Shao, seated across from him, replied calmly.

“Thank you for the game.”

Eddie responded in broken Chinese, after a long hesitation and a clenched jaw.

Once the stones were packed up, Yu Shao stood up and walked out of the Handtalk Room.

Even after he had left, the two referees and the female recorder hadn’t recovered. They stared blankly at the now-empty Go board.

But in their minds, they could still see the fierce mutual kill between black and white.

This game had been incredibly intense—so many of Black’s moves were far too bold, completely ignoring threats from White, which led to violent retaliation. Black was constantly walking a razor’s edge!

Yet Black never fell. White was always one step too slow.

The phrase “Speed is the soul of war” had never been more vividly demonstrated than in this match.

By all reasoning, after two consecutive long, high-intensity slow games, this third match should’ve been more conservative—especially once Yu Shao gained an advantage.

But instead, this game turned out to be even more brutal than the last two. He played numerous moves that were lethal to the opponent—but just one misstep, and he could’ve ended up in a terminal Ko!

They couldn’t tell if it was their imagination, but they felt like Yu Shao’s Go had evolved somehow.

Still fierce and forceful—but now with an added air of unwavering momentum and ruthless decisiveness, a pressure so overwhelming it felt like it could crush anything in its path.

He had now won three in a row.

...

...

The next day.

Under the eyes of millions, the fourth match of the Contested Game began.

In this match, Ma Rui would play Black, Yu Shao would play White.

In the American Review Room, not a word was spoken. Everyone just stared intently at the screen—the atmosphere heavy.

Meanwhile, across TVs and computer screens, viewers watched the broadcast, their expressions similarly tense—a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Across the first three games, Yu Shao had demonstrated exactly what it meant to treat Go like swordsmanship—that one cannot win without the will to kill. Each move he made rang through the Go world like the clang of steel.

“Only those who have fully calculated life and death can be called sages on the board.”

This style of playing—courting death to find life, attacking with absolute clarity—was terrifying.

But this kind of fighting Go was also mentally exhausting. The calculations required were staggering. He managed to bear it for the first two days—but now it was the fourth.

Everyone watching was worried.

Soon, under the world's watch, Ma Rui played the opening move:

Column 17, Row 4 — Small Point.

Yu Shao quickly responded:

Column 16, Row 16 — Star Point.

Click. Click. Click...

The two sides quickly formed a Star-Small Point vs. Star-Small Point opening. Black made a single-space extension to defend the corner, and then it was Yu Shao’s turn again.

Click!

Column 3, Row 3 — 3-3 Point!

No one was surprised anymore.

They had seen this too many times. He’d played 3-3 as early as move 2, move 3, move 4...

Now that he was playing it on move 6? That was practically late for him.

No one doubted—if Ma Rui had played a Star Point on move 1, Yu Shao would’ve immediately 3-3 invaded at 8-8 without hesitation.

In the Review Room, none of the American players showed even a trace of mockery like they had during Eddie’s game.

Now, every face was solemn.

Because in the post-game reviews of the past three matches, every key turning point—every moment of momentum shift—had some tie to the 3-3 Point.

It wasn’t that their responses to 3-3 were wrong. The problem was...

Yu Shao understood 3-3 better than anyone.

He had maximized its potential in every variation.

“But on the flip side, from those three games, our own understanding of 3-3 has improved. He won’t be able to execute it as easily this time.”

Everyone stared at the screen, and the same thought emerged:

“He’s already won three in a row. Every game decided by one brilliant reading in a complex kill-fight. Surely... he has to lose now, right?”

On the screen, stones continued to fall.

In the Review Room, they followed along, placing stones and discussing each move.

“Our 3-3 preparation is paying off.”

A young player sighed with relief. “Ma Rui seems completely unfazed.”

“Don’t let your guard down.”

Eddie’s face darkened. Watching the board, he seemed to recall yesterday’s game. “It’s still an even position. Everything will come down to the upcoming fight.”

“Ma Rui should be fine.”

The young man grinned. “Yu Shao’s already exhausted. Ma Rui is still at his peak—fired up and ready to go. If it turns into a fight, he might even have the upper hand!”

In the crowd, Lu Yihong frowned at the board. He didn’t know why, but despite the calm appearance of the game, he had a bad feeling.

Time passed. More stones fell.

Players discussed every move as they followed along.

“Ma Rui’s playing really well. That jump was solid.”

“This clamp was good too. It avoids White’s counterattack, and the follow-up should...”

But mid-sentence, the young man laying out variations froze.

His brow furrowed. He suddenly broke into a cold sweat.

“Is this clamp... not good?”

He quickly tried a new variation—but the outcome didn’t improve.

Then he laid out another line—and when that failed too, he was completely stunned, staring at the board in disbelief.

“W-what’s going on?”

“Why... is Black so hard to play?!”

Ma Dong was just about to explain when Lu Yihong spoke up:

“His understanding of the whole board... is deeper than Ma Rui’s.”

Ma Dong looked at Lu Yihong, then stayed quiet.

“What do you mean?”

The young man looked up in confusion.

Lu Yihong took a deep breath, withdrew his gaze from the board, and turned toward the screen.

“After the 3-3 Point, he tenuki’d and grabbed a key area first.”

“His moves looked a bit loose, but every time—they went to the most valuable spots.”

“Ma Rui’s every move made sense. They were all strong... which is exactly why the board looks even right now.”

Lu Yihong paused. Then he said firmly:

“But in truth—Ma Rui is already at a disadvantage.”

The room fell silent.

Everyone stared at the board again, chills creeping up their spines.

They had all underestimated him. Again.

On the screen, black and white stones continued to fall.

Then, a white stone landed—

Column 14, Row 12 — Cut!

Everyone involuntarily clenched their fists.

“He... actually wants to fight Ma Rui’s Large Dragon directly!”

They all knew it wasn’t the wisest move—but watching Yu Shao, clearly fatigued yet still charging into battle, they couldn’t help but be shaken by that unrelenting drive.

Click! Click! Click!

The sound of falling stones rang out like blades clashing. Even in the Review Room, they could feel it.

Ma Rui was clearly provoked too. He fought back fiercely, unleashing one killing move after another—refusing to defend, counterattacking directly, even threatening to slay Yu Shao’s Large Dragon!

Everyone watched, breath held, as the two clashed in this magnificent mutual kill.

Then—White played another move.

At first glance, it seemed irrelevant, far from the main battlefield. Everyone looked confused.

But after a few seconds, realization hit them like a wave—even the always-composed Zeng Jun’s expression changed!

“What a devastating tesuji!”

At first, it looked useless.

But upon reflection—it connected to the entire board. If a capturing race broke out, that stone would be decisive!

The center was about to become a Ko fight. If Black opened the Ko, and White forced a capturing race—

That one white stone would be the finishing blow.

Soon after, the screen showed two black stones fall.

The Review Room went dead silent.

“Ma Rui’s Heavenly Dragon...”

Eddie stared at the screen, voice trembling.

“...was killed.”

...