I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 321: After Yu Shao, There Are No More Demigods

Under the world’s breathless gaze, stones continued to fall on the board.

Tap, tap, tap...

Black: Column 5, Row 2.

White: Column 4, Row 2.

Black: Column 9, Row 11 – Takes the ko!

...

In the storm of uncertainty, Black calculated every variation to the end. After a long buildup, the dagger was finally revealed—this single move that echoed through the entire board opened a massive ko fight that left everyone stunned.

Black was using this to turn the tide, to prop up a collapsing fortress!

No one knew when the snow had begun to fall heavily over Seoul, blanketing the city in white. But at this moment, no one noticed that the world outside had transformed—they were all fixated on this one game.

“Black cuts at the top left to initiate the ko. White has to respond. Then Black captures the ko, and White must cut again to search for more threats!”

The male commentator kept placing each move on the demo board, his face red with excitement. “But Higashiyama Kaoru’s counter-atari is also fierce!”

Each stone that landed on the board sent waves through everyone’s hearts!

Black, from the brink of defeat, ignited an astonishing fighting spirit—like a raging tide, surging back. Each move sent shock deep into the viewers’ chests!

At the tournament venue, the Vice Player Match, Third Player Match, and Fourth Player Match had all concluded. Only the Fifth Player Match and the Main Player Match remained.

In the Vice Match, Su Yiming won against Fujiwara Terashima by 2.5 points after the endgame.

In the Third Match, Qin Lang had a sizable midgame lead, but Oda Takeshi held on until the endgame. Qin’s final moves lacked finesse, and he lost by just half a point.

In the Fourth Match, Le Haoqiang gave a jaw-dropping performance—suppressing Murakami Junichi the entire game and capturing his large dragon in the midgame to win.

“It’s still so close... The outcome’s still unclear. Is this really going to be decided in the endgame?”

Gu Chuan stared at the board, a little unwilling. “I should’ve ended this game long ago, but it dragged on and on.”

He’d been behind through the midgame, but later found his chance and fought back to reverse the situation. Still, Onishi Keikawa’s resilience had caught him off guard.

“If it were Yu Shao, he definitely could’ve…”

That thought crossed Gu Chuan’s mind.

Suddenly realizing something, he froze.

“If it were Yu Shao... where would he play this move?”

Gu Chuan looked at the board. Images of all those blitz games he'd played with Yu Shao flashed through his mind like a lantern reel.

“If I were Gu Chuan, I would...”

In that moment, his hand moved instinctively into the bowl, pulling out a stone.

In front of him, he imagined Yu Shao’s hand picking up a stone.

Then, the stone fell—

“He would...”

“Play right here!”

Gu Chuan placed the stone decisively!

“A tenuki?!”

Across the board, Onishi Keikawa was stunned—then his expression changed drastically.

Tap, tap, tap…

The battle intensified again.

Onishi’s face turned darker and darker, his moves slower and slower. But Gu Chuan’s spirit ignited—his eyes firm, his stones sharp and swift!

Finally, not long after, Onishi clenched his fists and lowered his head, unwilling but defeated:

“I lost...”

“I... I won!”

Gu Chuan clenched his fists in joy, elated. He turned to look beside him—

But then froze.

The surrounding seats were empty—everyone had gathered around a single board, watching one game with expressions of shock and awe.

Seeing this, Gu Chuan quickly got up and, without even asking about the other results, squeezed into the crowd and looked toward the board.

“This situation...”

Just one glance—and Gu Chuan’s face changed. His scalp tingled as he stared at the board.

“How did it come to this?”

Tap!

Under the world’s watchful eyes, Black moved again.

Yu Shao studied the board with a cold expression, picked up a White stone, and followed.

Higashiyama Kaoru, drenched in sweat, thought for a moment before finally responding.

Tap, tap, tap...

Black and White clashed over the ko, each finding threats, fighting to the death!

“Not enough ko threats on the left. The pressure above is huge. If I recklessly look for threats there, I might just hand White new threats. I have to cut off White’s escape route!”

Higashiyama looked toward the lower side and placed his next stone decisively—

“So, I have to create action down here!”

Tap!

Column 10, Row 16 – Atari!

“Atari?”

Seeing that move, Su Yiming frowned slightly, thinking about White’s options—

Just then, a crisp clack sounded. Su Yiming looked up—Yu Shao’s hand was already in the bowl.

The next moment, he placed the stone—

Tap!

Column 12, Row 6 – Block!

That move stunned Su Yiming. Then his expression shifted, and he looked up sharply:

“Block?!”

Not just Su Yiming—Gu Chuan, Le Haoqiang, and Qin Lang all blanked out. Gu Chuan even nearly shouted aloud!

Higashiyama stared at the board, utterly frozen by that White stone. It was like he’d seen a ghost!

At that moment, the entire world watching this game fell into silence.

Dead silence.

Absolute silence.

That move—shattering like a thunderclap, silencing the world!

Inside the Commentary Room

“Higashiyama’s atari here is a definite ko threat. White can only connect, otherwise—”

The male commentator was explaining the atari when the screen flashed—Yu Shao had already placed his move.

The commentator’s voice cut off abruptly.

He stared at the screen in shock, his mouth slowly hanging open.

“He... tenuki’d and blocked?!”

Beside him, the female commentator was dazed. “If Black now ataris White’s vital stones, his two groups—previously disconnected—can reunite.”

“Not only would Black’s dead stones in the lower right come back to life, but after connecting, White might even get killed!”

She licked her dry lips, then asked in disbelief, “Did he... misplay?”

The male commentator didn’t respond. Even if it was a mistake, the move was way too far from the right position.

But if it wasn’t a mistake—this move would instantly cause White’s position to collapse!

Just then, the screen showed Black’s next move:

Column 9, Row 16 – Capture!

The male commentator took a deep breath, stepped forward, picked up a Black stone, and placed it on the demo board. He then removed the two dead White stones.

Those were vital stones. With them dead, Black’s groups were fully connected.

More importantly—not only was Black revived in the lower right, but now White faced life-and-death danger. He might be killed!

The audience was dumbfounded.

Was this match really going to end in such a dramatic fashion?

Just as that thought surfaced—White moved again:

Column 14, Row 9 – Extend!

That move stunned everyone—the commentators, the audience—speechless!

The female commentator could no longer hold it in. She stared at the screen and shouted,

“He... he... he…”

She stammered, overwhelmed—until finally she shouted,

“He completely ignored the ko fight and the life-and-death issue below—and just extended?!”

The screen showed more moves falling.

The commentators were so stunned, they forgot to place the stones on the board—just stared at the screen in a daze.

Was this game still even necessary to continue?

There’s a proverb in Go:

“Lose the vital stones, lose the whole board. Capture them, and the board comes alive.”

More moves fell. The two commentators blinked—then beads of sweat began to form on their foreheads.

“This…”

Disbelief crept across their faces.

The hall was completely still. Everyone was stunned. It felt like their hearts were being squeezed—they could barely breathe!

Looking at the game, their vision blurred.

After White extended, Black’s entire large dragon was in jeopardy. Two weaknesses couldn't be covered, and Black had no breathing room.

White still had a stand threat from above—

And worst of all, White could extend to attack Black’s four vital stones at the top!

Even if Black killed the lower White group, the right side was completely White-controlled. Black was one move short. He couldn’t continue!

And so—everyone realized—

When Black went looking for a ko threat, and White played that seemingly suicidal block—

That block was actually the most vicious move locally.

The most. No contest.

Looking at White’s last few moves, no one could even find words to describe them.

Words like tesuji, brilliant move, divine strike—none of them were enough.

If there was just one word—

It would be:

Terrifying.

Those moves were simply terrifying.

Everyone stared at the board, watching White’s stones fall one after another.

They felt as if they were bowing in reverence—looking up to witness the visage of a god.

On the Sinai of Go, they had finally seen the divine—its brilliance dazzling, yet terrifying in its depth.

Silence.

Deeper silence.

The stage was hushed. The audience frozen.

The commentators stared at the board, no longer speaking.

Even as a 9-dan, the male commentator no longer dared to analyze.

This game had become art.

A true work of art between Black and White.

The entire world was lost in awe and confusion—drowned in silence.

“This match—without a doubt—is the pinnacle of Higashiyama Kaoru’s career. He proved that saying true.”

After a long while, a young man spoke in the commentary room, staring blankly at the board:

“After Higashiyama Kaoru, there are no more geniuses…”

“That might be true. But…”

“If that’s true, then Yu Shao is the one—After Yu Shao, there are no more demigods.”

The young man’s face looked even more lost as he muttered:

“On the Sinai of Go, I bowed in awe, trembling as I looked up—and saw the face of a god.”

“But God’s brilliance... is terrifying the more you comprehend it.”

Hearing this, the bald man beside him finally recovered from his deep shock. He turned in disbelief to the young man beside him.

The young man kept staring blankly at the screen, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“In the end... I was the one... sitting in the well, trying to see the sky.”

The stones on the board kept falling—Black still stubbornly fighting. But everyone already knew the result.

The moment White ignored the ko, and played that divine block, Black’s dream of a comeback was shattered—gone!

Yet regardless of who won—this match would go down in Go history.

Go is the masterpiece of two players.

You can’t do it alone.

...

Clack.

Higashiyama Kaoru looked at the board and reached into the bowl again. The stones clacked together.

But this time, he didn’t pull one out.

He held two stones tightly in his hand—reached to the center of the board.

At first, he couldn’t let go—but then, slowly, he opened his hand.

The stones dropped.

Tap, tap.

“It’s over…”

Su Yiming gazed at the board.

The ko was finished. The game was over.

But his heart felt surprisingly calm.

He looked at Higashiyama—head bowed, long hair covering his face. His expression was unreadable.

“Even in defeat—playing a game like this... you should be proud.”

Though he didn’t speak it aloud, Su Yiming’s eyes said everything.

“You personally played this game, this game record.”

Around them, everyone remained frozen. As the match ended, they finally snapped back to reality—feeling a faint sense of melancholy.

Watching this match, they’d almost forgotten the concept of winning and losing.

They’d just been lost in the beauty of the battle.

To witness a game like this... who cares who won?

They never expected that this match—

would be something they would never forget.

The two referees were equally silent, emotions in turmoil.

“Higashiyama Kaoru, loses by resignation...”

They were seasoned referees—hosting countless team matches.

Five years ago, they’d seen prodigies like Zhu Huai’an, who battled top Korean and Japanese players but fell short by half a point.

Seven years ago, Jung Sebin’s five-man team swept through China and Japan—winning nearly every match, only dropping one.

Ten years ago...

So many talents, so many brilliant games.

But no team match had ever left them this shaken, this lost.

In this match, they saw divine calculation—

—and it terrified them.

“...Apologies.”

Suddenly, Higashiyama’s hoarse voice broke the silence.

Everyone turned toward him.

Even Yu Shao looked up from the board.

Higashiyama still had his head lowered, fists clenched, body trembling.

But his voice was firm: “Apologies.”

Yu Shao looked at him, then asked, “Apologize for what?”

Higashiyama looked up suddenly. “At the opening ceremony, you—”

But Yu Shao cut him off, coldly: “You’ve just played another great game, haven’t you?”

That silenced Higashiyama.

“Look carefully at the game you just played.”

Yu Shao stood and looked at him.

“If you can play like this, then the answer is already in your heart.”

“Don’t say something like, ‘I alone lost—not four thousand years of Go.’”

“If the last four thousand years of Go were a path—then whether you admit it or not, your Go has already stepped onto another one.”

Hearing that, Higashiyama looked down at the board, his heart trembling.

He clenched his teeth—and tears finally burst from his eyes.

“You’re already capable of playing a game like this.”

Yu Shao turned to the others—his tone cold again.

“Let’s go. The team match is over.”

Inside the Korea-Japan Discussion Room

Silence.

Lee Junhyuk and the others stared at the blackened TV screen, dazed.

“It’s snowing.”

Someone looked out the window, finally noticing the white world beyond.

They weren’t sure if the emptiness in their heart came from the snow—or the game’s end.

Then, Honinbo Shinwa suddenly turned to An Hongshi and asked,

“Master An, have you heard of entropy?”

An Hongshi blinked, then nodded. “Yes, it’s some kind of universal physical law?”

“Yes.”

Honinbo Shinwa nodded. “Lately I’ve been fascinated by the universe.

Because Go... is like the universe. No one can truly grasp its entirety.”

“The more I understand Go, the more I realize how small I am—and how vast it is.”

He looked at the board and said,

“This game—their moves moved like entropy itself, rising and falling in the cosmic void, with no discernible trace…”

Hearing this, An Hongshi turned again to the board.

Each move from Black and White flashed through his mind—etched deeply into his memory.

After a moment, he suddenly asked,

“Master Shinwa, you remember what Yu Shao said at the opening ceremony, don’t you?”

Honinbo Shinwa looked puzzled, then nodded. “Of course.”

“If in the first match, Yu Shao revealed heaven’s secrets—

Then in this second match, the players played by those secrets.”

“This is a historic game. To witness it—I consider it my honor. I salute both players.”

He paused, then continued—

“This is the Go of a new era.”

Hearing that, Honinbo Shinwa jolted in shock, looking up at An Hongshi.

The Go of a new era?

Lee Junhyuk and the others were equally stunned.

They didn’t yet realize—if the world heard those words, it would unleash a storm.

The era had changed!

That sentence treated the last 4,000 years of Go as one era—and now, after this game, a new era would begin.

And those words had come from none other than An Hongshi.

He looked at the board and smiled, slightly emotional:

“Maybe before this, there was never a game truly worthy of being called a ‘great game’.”

“I think Go history is turning a new page. We’ll have to re-learn Go, Master Shinwa.”

He chuckled:

“Sooner or later, those two will sit across from us. We can’t afford to be the ones who can’t produce a good game, right?”

Honinbo Shinwa fell silent.

Higashiyama Kaoru had already entered the Honinbo League. If he earned a title shot this year—

Then yes, they would soon meet in a title match.

He stood slowly and said,

“There will never be a Honinbo under twenty years old.”

An Hongshi smiled faintly, didn’t argue, and asked:

“Going to the award ceremony later?”

“No. I’m not interested. I doubt you are either.”

Honinbo Shinwa shook his head. “I lost the bet. Let’s go—I’ll treat you to dinner.”

The game was over.

The snow fell harder.

But the world remained trapped in a storm of awe and silence.

This was the peak clash of framework vs. invasion.

Both Black and White created miracles—each move was unfathomable.

A game of waves and thunder—echoing through the soul.

Looking back on this team match—

Everyone’s hearts were filled with emotion.

Watching this record felt like witnessing the changing of the ages.

Even now, the sound of those stones seemed to echo in their ears.

To witness this game—was it a blessing, or a curse?