After entering the venue, Jing Yu finally broke away from the crowd of fans and quickly made his way toward Li Le.
"Consultant Li, you're here too?"
"Yeah. There aren't that many professional players in Modo City, and I happened to be free, so the Go Association called me in for the exchange event."
Li Le didn't hold any grudges toward Jing Yu. In Go, if your skills are lacking and you lose, blaming your opponent is just bad sportsmanship.
"Well, let's both do our best. I'm aiming to make it past the third round," Jing Yu said with a smile.
"I'm just hoping I don't draw you. After losing fourteen games to you on set, my self-esteem's in shambles."
Li Le chuckled, clearly able to laugh at himself.
Jing Yu was silent for a second, then laughed along.
"Winning or losing in Go is normal. If we do end up facing each other, I'm sure you'll beat me this time."
The story of Jing Yu and Li Le's matches had originally leaked from the loose mouth of Cheng Lie, and once the crew caught wind of it, word spread—especially since many in the crew had connections in the media. One thing led to another, and soon other networks got wind of it and broadcast it publicly.
With 'Hikaru no Go' currently a massive hit, Li Le—being the show's Go consultant—had become a laughingstock among some circles, with people mocking him for being worse than a screenwriter. Jing Yu felt bad about it.
So his thinking was: as long as he doesn't draw Li Le in the early rounds, if they meet in the top 16 or later, he'll just lose on purpose. Let Li Le win and reclaim his reputation in public.
After all, losing to a 5-dan isn't shameful—if anything, it'd look more realistic.
Assuming, of course, that they even ended up facing each other, out of 64 players over six rounds, it was unlikely.
But only for Li Le.
If it were anyone else?
Jing Yu would go all out.
The 64 players gathered on site included:
Entrepreneurs, vegetable vendors, a screenwriter, retired uncles from the park, local government officials, elderly women with disabilities, and professional players.
Qimu Sports had collaborated with official media for this event as a way to promote Go as a traditional cultural treasure of Da Zhou, so they'd invited top representatives from all walks of life—every one of them a notable Go enthusiast. Even those "infamous" businessmen called stinking amateurs were, at the very least, the cream of the stinking crop.
The event began with a long round of introductions.
In 'Hikaru no Go's online fan group chats, everyone's eyes were glued to the screen, focused on the lone figure in ancient white robes, holding a folding fan:
Jing Yu.
Everyone else at the venue wore casual modern clothes. Only Jing Yu stood out in such dramatic attire—and he was, by far, the best-looking one there.
He was the kind of person you couldn't ignore, even if you tried.
"Ugh, just give us full-time shots of Sai already!"
"Jing Yu really knows what we fans want—he showed up dressed as Fujiwara no Sai!"
"Let's gooo! Crush those pros, Teacher Jing Yu!"
"Don't lose, Sai!!"
"Honestly, Great Zhou has a few good-looking celebrities, but seeing Jing Yu in this outfit with the character aura of Fujiwara no Sai... ugh, he's just too cute. My heart's melting."
"Look, I'm a fan too, but let's be real. Out of these 64 players, probably 30 are just hobbyists. They might be legends among casuals, but they're no match for the pros. Don't fantasize about Jing Yu winning the whole thing."
"Exactly. There aren't even 1,000 professional Go players in all of Da Zhou. Sure, strong amateurs can beat lower-ranked pros, but against someone like Zhou Zhengguang or Su Lin? Forget it. Not even a chance."
"Oh, come on! Y'all are so negative. So what if Jing Yu beat a 5-dan? Can't he beat a 9-dan too? It's just four ranks higher!"
"Pfft, for one, we don't even know if Jing Yu really beat a pro. That could've been Li Le playing along to hype up the show. But this exchange event is live. No pro is going to throw a match for show ratings."
The 'Hikaru no Go' fan chat was now a battleground between the rational fans and the unhinged fanatics.
But whatever the debate, one thing was undeniable:
The ratings just kept going up.
Even the Big Six TV networks had started paying close attention.
They viewed 'Hikaru no Go' as a serious threat—if Jing Yu embarrassed himself today, they'd pounce, tarnishing his image as quickly as they could.
The Exchange Event Began
First up: the drawing of lots.
No one wanted to draw one of the six professional players right out the gate.
Everyone was hoping to avoid a first-round slaughter.
Ironically, Jing Yu, in his theatrical ancient costume, was seen by many as the "softest target."
Unlike the general audience, these participants knew what it meant to be a professional 5-dan.
Losing to one was no big deal.
But losing to a screenwriter who could act, play piano, violin, and compose songs?
Absolutely not.
A genius? Please.
All the pros here were geniuses too—and they'd dedicated everything to Go.
How could a 20-something who dabbled in five different fields still be this good at Go?
Then came the draw results.
Some players looked relieved. Others sighed deeply.
Those who had drawn names like Zhou Zhengguang or Su Lin in Round 1 looked absolutely devastated.
Getting wiped out in the first round? Talk about humiliation.
Jing Yu looked down at his own slip.
"Qian Yu – Su Lin's disciple, professional 6-dan."
"...What crap luck," he muttered.
Truthfully, past 6- or 7-dan, the gap to 9-dan isn't that huge.
Some 7- or 8-dan players are just as strong as 9-dan. Some younger pros stuck at 3-dan or 4-dan were only ranked low due to a lack of time, not skill.
Li Le, for example, was one of the weaker players in the 5-dan tier, which explained why Jing Yu had beaten him so many times.
Still, mistakes happen—even for pros.
Jing Yu had no intention of getting swept in Round 1.
That would be far too embarrassing.
He took a deep breath, got focused, and prepared to go all out.
The Match
The two players sat down across from each other.
The total match time was two hours—one hour per player.
Both Jing Yu and Qian Yu wore serious expressions.
Jing Yu was nervous about losing face.
Qian Yu was nervous about actually losing.
Anyone who had heard the rumors of Jing Yu beating Li Le over ten times would feel some pressure.
And if he lost, his teacher Su Lin would explode.
Just thinking of Su Lin's face made Qian Yu shudder.
Around them, cameras from every TV station were set up.
Overhead rigs recorded the game from above.
The official channels maintained balanced coverage.
But Yunteng's channel?
They locked their entire feed onto Jing Yu's table and didn't switch away once.
As a result, many 'Hikaru no Go' fans flocked to Yun Teng's sub-channel to watch the match live.
"Come on, Jing Yu!"
"Don't lose!"
"Crush him! It's just 6-dan!"
"Eh, 6-dan is still no joke..."
For viewers unfamiliar with Go, the match looked dry.
But thankfully, the fan chats had commentators.
They explained move-by-move variations, strategy goals, and patterns.
But as the match went on… their commentary gradually stopped.
"Uh… sorry, I'm struggling to comment. Jing Yu's playstyle is... kind of eye-opening."
"I feel that too. Some of his moves look weird, but then later... they become the key to the whole game. I watch a lot of national games, and I can follow most pro strategies. But Jing Yu? I'm kind of stunned."
"This isn't a mainstream style. Is it... some kind of old-school technique?"
"Never seen this before, honestly."
"Wait, what is he doing? Did Jing Yu just blunder?"
A few advanced players in the chat began arguing, thinking Jing Yu had made a mistake.
Ten minutes later:
"HOLY CRAP. That move was genius!"
"Forget analysis—I'm hyped. This is amazing."
"Wait, so that's what he was setting up?!"
"Jing Yu, how long were you holding onto that trap?!"
"That was in your calculations? Are you kidding me?!"
Commentators had devolved into spamming '666' (Chinese net slang for "awesome").
The casual fans in the chat had no idea what was happening, but their excitement was contagious.
Many 'Hikaru no Go' fans came and went, just hoping to catch the moment of victory or defeat.
After just one hour, the match ended.
Qian Yu conceded.
A resignation in the mid-game.
He clearly saw he had no chance.
Jing Yu looked at him—a slightly chubby young man in his twenties—visibly frustrated.
As for Jing Yu himself, the tense expression he wore at the start had relaxed.
He had played this game very seriously, expecting a hard match…
But it had been surprisingly easy.
In fact, he felt a bit unsatisfied.
He'd set up several traps he never got to spring before the opponent folded.
"You're Jing Yu, right..."
Qian Yu looked at him, stunned and defeated.
"Your opening... your fuseki..."
"Ah, just stuff I messed around with on my own," Jing Yu quickly cut him off.
No way was he going to explain anything.
Like: "Wanna learn? I'll teach you!" Hell no.
Most of his techniques were from his previous life's Go world, not this one.
When the system transferred its knowledge, it pulled from both worlds.
So Jing Yu had full knowledge of this world's styles and all the historical, obscure ones from his past life.
That meant he could understand his opponent's strategies—
But his opponent had no idea how to read his.
He was playing chess against someone blind to his entire library of tactics.
So, of course, he won.
Exchange Event – Round One:
Jing Yu vs. Qian Yu (Pro 6-dan): Victory by Resignation
When this result hit the airwaves, 'Hikaru no Go' fans everywhere erupted.