I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 326: Clash of Eras

The first match between Zhuang Weisheng and Zhu Huai’an in the Ten-Dan Title Match unleashed a torrential storm that shook the global Go scene like never before. The entire world watched in awe.

Everyone felt a surge of complicated emotions.

The Great Storm joseki made its debut on the stage of a title match—an event that symbolizes the highest level of Go. Its appearance was earth-shattering, entering the sacred hall of Go and being enshrined in gold.

But… this new deity entered the pantheon at the cost of two others falling—Demon Blade and Great Avalanche.

The sound of those fallen statues crashing reverberated across the world. Silence followed, pierced only by the sheer weight of the moment. A sense of awe rooted deep in every heart.

The first match of the Ten-Dan ended with Zhuang Weisheng playing White and claiming a midgame victory in 97 moves—taking the early lead.

The Ten-Dan Title Match follows a best-of-seven format. Winning the first game is just the first step.

The second game would be held at the Central Go Academy.

Thanks to the sensational impact of the first match, this second round drew even more attention than in previous years. Everyone was curious—what kind of game would Zhuang Weisheng and Zhu Huai’an play next?

In this match, Zhuang Weisheng played Black. The game dragged on for over 200 moves, until Zhuang finally placed a resignation stone.

What shocked everyone wasn’t that he lost. Zhu Huai’an, despite his youth, already held the Go Sage title and was among the few who could truly rival Zhuang.

So Zhuang Weisheng losing a match? That was understandable.

What no one expected was how he played. His entire style—wasn't his.

Zhuang had founded the Weisheng-style, known for its focus on territory, quick play, and expansive frameworks. He paid little attention to solidity or shape.

But in this match, his mentality seemed to have shifted. He no longer chased territory but prioritized the center and outer influence.

In short, if you didn’t know it was him, the game record wouldn’t remind you of Zhuang Weisheng at all.

Of course, this didn’t mean the game was bad.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. Despite abandoning his usual style, Zhuang still showcased an unfathomable level of strength.

Everyone assumed he’d adjust in the following rounds, return to form, and defend the Ten-Dan title once more.

But what stunned everyone—Zhuang never went back to his old ways. It was like he had become a different person.

No one knew why.

Game 4: Zhu Huai’an won by 3.5 points playing White.

Game 5: Zhu won again by just half a point.

Game 6: Zhuang claimed a midgame victory playing Black.

Game 7: Zhuang played White… and lost by 1.5 points.

At last, under the gaze of the entire world, the Ten-Dan Title Match concluded with a 3-4 result.

The Ten-Dan Title… changed hands.

After claiming the Go Sage title, Zhu Huai’an now added the Ten-Dan to his name. Meanwhile, Zhuang Weisheng lost the title he had defended for so long. All that remained was the Tengen title.

The news hit like a nuclear bomb—its shockwave rivaling even the Great Storm debut in Game 1.

There’s a saying: "All titles flow like water, except the iron-clad Ten-Dan."

Over the years, prodigies had risen and fallen. Titleholders changed hands time and again—but only the Ten-Dan remained untouched.

Even the most gifted talents would fall at Zhuang Weisheng’s feet in the Ten-Dan. Everyone had gotten used to calling him Zhuang Weisheng Ten-Dan.

But now... even the Ten-Dan had changed hands!

From now on, he would be known as Zhuang Weisheng, Tengen, no longer Ten-Dan.

Zhu Huai’an was indeed strong, but no one had expected him to take the title from Zhuang.

Online commentary exploded in waves.

Some said Zhuang had lost his edge and was on the decline.

Others believed it was just a slump and that he’d rise again soon.

And others still said this was the sign—the Go world was entering a new era. One had ended.

Beijing – Kong’s Dojo

“No way?!”

A group of dojo trainees crowded around a laptop, staring at the screen in disbelief. Even after witnessing the whole match, they still couldn’t accept the final result.

“Teacher Zhuang... lost the Ten-Dan title?”

A chubby youth stared blankly at the screen.

“That’s impossible!”

Next to him, a skinny teen wearing gold-rimmed glasses shook his head. “That’s Teacher Zhuang we’re talking about! The Eternal Ten-Dan! This has to be a joke!”

“What’s going on? His moves are nothing like before! Why would he play like that?!”

“His old style was so meticulous... but now—”

Kong Zi sat silently, listening to the students as he stared at the screen.

A moment later, he finally spoke. “Do you really think… he’s gotten weaker?”

The students fell quiet and looked at him in confusion.

“Master?”

The chubby boy couldn’t help replying, “I mean, his games are still great... but they’re just not him!”

“Teacher Zhuang used to convert territory into influence and dominate in the midgame. You, of all people, know that best—after all, you’ve played against him!”

Kong Zi shifted his gaze from the screen to the tangled Go board in front of him. After a pause, he reached out and cleared the board.

“I’ve never gotten along with him... but that’s why I know him so well.”

Kong Zi picked out a few stones and laid them down one by one, setting up a local life-and-death problem. Then he said, “Take a good look at this.”

“This is…”

Everyone turned to the board, expressions darkening.

In the life-and-death problem, the White group looked hopeless. If Black played the next move, White would collapse instantly.

Kong Zi gazed at the position and said, “Weisheng—in Go, refers to stones that look dead but still hold a sliver of life, a chance to be revived.”

As he spoke, he placed a move.

The students froze.

With this one move, the supposedly dead White stones came back to life—and even posed a threat to reverse the kill!

“I don’t know what’s going through his head…”

Kong Zi’s voice was heavy. “But that guy definitely has his reasons.”

“He’s just like his name—Weisheng.”

Donghai City – A Luxury Apartment

Jiang Changdong squinted at his screen, rubbing his chin. “Zhuang Weisheng… he really dares, huh?”

“Dares?”

Chu Jingfeng furrowed his brow. “Teacher Jiang, you mean—?”

“Heh. We don’t need to worry about him. Let him be. Sooner or later, he’ll reveal his answer.”

Jiang Changdong chuckled and shook his head. “What matters more is the National Master Tournament. The prelims start the day after tomorrow, and that’s what I need to focus on.”

“Yu Shao, huh?”

Chu Jingfeng turned back to the screen.

After a pause, he suddenly asked, “Teacher Jiang.”

Jiang raised an eyebrow and looked over.

Chu Jingfeng still stared at the game record of Game 7.

“The Great Avalanche... the Demon Blade... all gone. And now the Great Storm, more complex than all three, has emerged.”

“Zhuang Weisheng, who held the Ten-Dan for 20 straight defenses, has lost his crown. Meanwhile, players like Yu Shao, Su Yiming, Higashiyama Kaoru—they’re rising stars on the world stage.”

“Teacher Jiang... don’t you feel like the times are changing in ways we never imagined?”

Jiang fell silent.

“This might be the dawn of a grand era of conflict between old and new,” Chu Jingfeng continued, his expression solemn. “Old views versus new ones. Veterans versus the next generation. I can feel it—the era is colliding.”

He took a deep breath and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Jiang finally asked.

“The National Master prelims start soon. I’m flying to Jiangling today—to see Yu Shao’s next match in person.”

Chu Jingfeng paused and added, “If he wins that game, no matter what rank he is now, he’ll be my equal.”

Then, as if remembering something, he looked at Jiang. “Are you going?”

“Flying all that way just to watch one match?” Jiang smirked. “Seems a bit much, doesn’t it?”

Chu Jingfeng opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He hadn’t planned to go either—but after Zhuang lost the Ten-Dan, he couldn’t shake the feeling of change.

So now, he just... felt compelled to go to Jiangling.

He shook his head and left without another word.

Jiang watched him go. Only when the door closed did he turn back to the screen, staring at the match between Zhuang Weisheng and Zhu Huai’an.

If he’d seen this game a year ago, with his old understanding of Go, he’d have thought their moves were bizarre. But now... they all made sense.

He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, exhaling slowly.

3-3 Point, Black and White, Thickness and Thinness, Initiative and Response, Old and New, Demon Blade and Avalanche, Great Storm...

Promotion Tournaments, Hero’s Pride Cup, the Challenge Match, China-Japan-Korea Team Tournaments…

Moments later, in the swirling smoke, Jiang Changdong picked up his phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

Chu Jingfeng answered quickly. “Teacher Jiang?”

“Wait for me.”

Jiang stared at the screen, stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette, and said, “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to Jiangling too.”

Pyongyang, Korea

“Zhuang lost the Ten-Dan, huh?”

An Hongshi raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “That’s a hell of a surprise.”

“Yeah, feels like the Go world is more turbulent than ever,” said the gaunt man sitting across from him. “Some are saying a new era is upon us. I really wonder what the future of Go will look like.”

He shook his head, reached into his Go bowl, and placed a stone.

Tap!

Column 17, Row 3—3-3 Point.

“Guess I’ll just sit back—”

An Hongshi stared at the board, eyes on that 3-3.

He reached into his bowl, stones clattering.

And placed his move.

Tap!

Column 17, Row 4—Block.

“—and watch how this new era comes crashing in.”

Zhuang Weisheng’s loss of the Ten-Dan sent shockwaves far beyond imagination. It rocked the entire global Go scene—not just Chinese internet forums, but communities in every country were buzzing.

Even though the Go world is vast—with players from China, Japan, Korea, the U.S., France, the U.K., Russia—there are only a handful of players who truly sit at the top of the pyramid.

Zhuang Weisheng, founder of Weisheng-style, was without a doubt one of those elite few.

Everyone had grown used to the Ten-Dan belonging to him.

Now, with him dethroned—it truly felt like the end of an era.

Looking back, people finally realized just how much the Go world had changed over the past year—a transformation the likes of which hadn’t been seen in centuries.

And the one connected to it all—

Yu Shao.

A 17-year-old who hadn’t even reached the main tournament of a title match yet. By strict definition, not even a top-tier player.

But now—he was just one game away.

If he could win that game, he’d clear the final hurdle of the prelims and officially step into the title match.

Into the ranks of the elite.

Into the sacred hall of Go.