I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 261: A Move That Shook Gods and Ghosts

Even into the early morning hours, global debate over the “Demon Blade” hadn’t died down—in fact, it had only grown more intense. No one could stay calm in the face of its downfall.

As a wave of discussions crashed across forums and social media, time passed swiftly. By around 7 to 8 a.m., the noise finally began to subside—if only slightly.

Because... the next match was about to begin.

This was the eighth game.

Yu Shao's streak of seven straight wins had far exceeded everyone’s expectations. And now, after fighting seven consecutive battles, he was about to face his strongest opponent yet—Majie.

At 9 a.m., Yu Shao finally got up, got dressed, washed up, and left the hotel. After breakfast, he headed straight to the Go Association, then made his way to the Playing Room.

When Yu Shao arrived, he saw a young man with chestnut hair and brown eyes already seated at one side of the board. The female recorder and two referees were also there—clearly having waited a while.

Seeing Yu Shao enter, all four of them turned toward him, each wearing a different expression.

Under their gazes, Yu Shao calmly entered the Playing Room, walked over to the seat across from Majie, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

In the quiet Go room, the two sat in still confrontation. Even the calligraphy scroll hanging on the wall that read “Discussing the Way While Seated” seemed to be imbued with a cold killing intent.

At the same time, tens of thousands of spectators glued to TVs and computer screens instinctively held their breath, eyes locked on the live broadcast, waiting for the game to begin.

Minutes passed.

Even the two referees were starting to feel the pressure—they fidgeted in their seats, slightly uneasy.

Finally, one referee glanced at his watch, steadied himself, and announced in a firm voice:

“Match time has arrived!”

“In this game, Majie, 7-dan, will play Black; Yu Shao, 2-dan, will play White. Black gives 7.5-point komi. Each player has five hours, with a one-minute overtime countdown!”

He looked up at the two young players seated across from each other, took a deep breath, and declared:

“Now—the match begins!”

The game—began!

Majie stared at the empty board in front of him. In his mind, the images of Yu Shao’s seven previous matches replayed—each game blazing with slaughter and brilliance.

Even though he was known for his aggression, just thinking of those dazzling tesujis and brilliant sequences sent a chill down his spine—that kind of killing intent embedded in the board was terrifying.

“I thought that among my peers, aside from a few in Korea and Japan, no one could match me… I never imagined that China still had a young player like this!”

Majie couldn’t help glancing at Yu Shao, his expression growing ever more solemn.

“Qin Lang, Che Wenyu, Le Haoqiang—they’re not bad. But against them, I always feel confident. I know I can beat them.”

He pulled his gaze back to the board, calm once more, and slowly reached into the Go bowl.

Clack!

The stones shifted as he picked one up.

“I can’t let my guard down just because he’s played so many matches. If I want to win, I need to go all out. I need to control the rhythm of this game with overwhelming force!”

“You’re trying to extend the fight, bait me into overreaching…”

The first move finally landed.

Tap!

Column 11, Row 7—High Point!

Yu Shao’s eyes sparkled as he looked at the black stone in the lower-left corner.

“When I can no longer hold back and resolve to fight you to the end—that will be the moment I turn everything around.”

As soon as Majie’s stone landed, Yu Shao reached into his bowl and placed a white stone.

Tap!

Column 4, Row 16—Star Point!

Majie responded quickly.

Tap!

Column 16, Row 17—Small Point!

“Again?! Another diagonal small-point opening!”

The female recorder and two referees exchanged glances, startled.

And not just them. All over the world, viewers watching the live broadcast were stunned—hearts pounding.

“Diagonal small point again?!”

“It’s another double small-point opening!”

“No way… even Majie doesn’t dare go for star points? Yu Shao’s played seven games already!”

Bullet comments exploded across streaming platforms like a waterfall.

Before, when the American side used double small-point openings twice in a row, people still weren’t sure…

But now, seeing Majie choose the same setup, everyone’s suspicions were confirmed.

Even Majie, one of the brightest talents in the U.S. team, chose not to play star points—despite Yu Shao having already gone through seven exhausting games!

Every single participant in this team match was a prodigy. And yet—not a single one dared to touch a star point. Even someone like Majie wasn’t an exception.

It was shocking.

No matter how this game turned out—Yu Shao had already left his mark on Go history.

One player, through sheer force, had made the entire opposing team abandon the star point. That was already a legendary feat!

With the whole world watching, Yu Shao calmly picked another stone from the bowl and played it.

Tap!

Column 4, Row 4—Star Point!

At this point, the board showed the classic clash: diagonal small point vs. double star.

Diagonal small point seeks territory; double star seeks influence. Fire and water, destined to clash—this was a battle for supremacy.

Countless historic games had been played with this very opening—games that had echoed through time.

“If I want a long, drawn-out game and control of the board, I shouldn’t rush into a corner invasion.”

Majie stared at the board, thinking carefully, then reached into the bowl again.

“Play steady, lock down the corner, and wait for him to come in.”

Tap!

Column 17, Row 8—Large Knight’s Enclosure!

Yu Shao lowered his gaze, quietly studying the board. He didn’t respond immediately as he usually did.

Clack!

Moments later, he reached into the bowl, picked up a stone.

Then—

Tap!

The sound echoed crisply.

The recorder and two referees, who had just been anxiously watching the board, all froze the moment the stone landed.

Then, their eyes slowly widened.

A wave of utter disbelief swept over their faces—shock struck them like thunder.

“This is…”

“This is...!”

They stared blankly at the stone—a move so visually jarring, so disruptive, that their minds went blank.

Not just the staff—Majie himself was also stunned, staring at the board with a face full of disbelief.

One move landed—

And the world held its breath.

The sound of that stone falling echoed like a gong, as if ringing out not just in the Playing Room—but across the entire world.

On the board:

Column 16, Row 16—Attach!

A white stone—fiercely attached right above the small-point black stone in the lower right—slamming in with overwhelming aggression. So direct, so forceful, it seemed almost… rude.

Everyone was shell-shocked. The world fell silent.

And then—uproar.

“He… attached to the small point?!”

In the American review room.

Silence.

Everyone stared at the TV screen in a daze. Eddie had a white stone halfway between the bowl and the board—but it was frozen in midair.

Zeng Jun, Lu Yihong—even Ma Dong—all wore stunned expressions, staring wide-eyed at the screen.

“He... he really attached to the small point?”

It took a while before Eddie managed to force a whisper from his throat:

“He... he…”

“Does he even know how to play Go?!”

Meanwhile, in the Chinese team’s review room.

Even they were at a loss for words.

“He... he…”

Zhou Wei stared at the white stone that had attached to the small point, his voice trembling. “What is he doing?!”

Everyone gawked at the screen as if they had just witnessed something otherworldly.

3-3 invasions had been considered suboptimal before, but they at least had a rationale—fighting for corner territory. But attaching to a small point?

That wasn’t just suboptimal—it was pure nonsense.

Even a beginner wouldn’t play that way.

In Go, attaching is risky in combat. Attaching to a small point loses territory, makes your shape heavy and over-concentrated, and hard to escape.

It’s too aggressive—too reckless. If someone didn’t know how to play, fine. But if they do know Go and still play this… it feels like an insult.

Any player seeing this would be stunned—just like if someone opened a game with a center move—they’d wonder if the opponent even knew how to play.

“Attach...”

In the crowd, Su Yiming was also staring at the screen, frozen, eyes full of confusion.

“This… this can’t be a good move, right?”

Then, someone asked softly:

“Is that... actually a good move?”

No one answered.

It should’ve been a question anyone could answer without hesitation. But now?

Not a single person responded.

At least—not until this game was over.

No one could say for sure.

In the Playing Room.

Silence.

After that one move landed, the room fell completely still.

The recorder and referees were frozen like statues, staring blankly at the board.

Majie didn’t move. He just stared at the board, completely stunned.

Time itself seemed to freeze.

A single move—shook gods and ghosts alike.

Yu Shao slowly lifted his head and looked at Majie across the board. Beneath his calm gaze... was a blade-like sharpness.

“So no one dares play star points anymore, huh?”

“Fine. Let’s not play star points then.”