"Is this draw system targeting me or something?"
Jing yu stared blankly at the result of the draw.
In his mind, he was only here to be the tournament's mascot—to boost viewership with the popularity of Fujiwara no Sai from 'Hikaru no Go'.
Even Cheng Lie had only told him to make it past the first three rounds and reach the quarterfinals—that alone would've been considered a success.
Before the draw, Jing yu had been mentally preparing himself:
If he drew Li Le or one of the other four amateur players, he'd just throw the game on purpose and go home to play video games.
After all, he had already beaten a professional 8-dan yesterday. That was more than enough to prove his skill and cement the Fujiwara no Sai image in the minds of fans.
But now?
He'd drawn… Zhou Zhengguang.
See, throwing a game against Li Le was still acceptable—word had already spread online that Li Le was his defeated student. He had beaten him 14 times already. Losing once wouldn't damage his image.
Even top professionals sometimes lose to each other. A 9-dan doesn't have a 100% win rate over 6- or 7-dans either.
So, intentionally losing to Li Le would just change his win rate from 100% to 93%. No big deal.
Or if he lost to one of the other amateurs, it'd be so obviously deliberate that even 'Hikaru no Go' fans would understand the message.
But now that he had just defeated an 8-dan yesterday—if he turned around and lost to a 9-dan today, whether on purpose or because he genuinely couldn't win, fans were going to be very upset.
It was like this:
To 'Hikaru no Go' fans, Sai could afford to lose to a middle-schooler in a teaching match, or even due to some comical mishap against the school's chess club captain.
But he absolutely could not lose to Akira's father, Koyo Toya.
Now, having shown top-level skills and earned their faith, Jing yu couldn't lose to one of the two 9-dan players left in the tournament.
He was one step away from becoming Fujiwara no Sai in the eyes of the audience.
They expected him to step up—and win.
That's how simple audience expectations were.
Plus, Zhou Zhengguang was Li Le's Go mentor. If Jing yu lost, the media would definitely run wild with headlines about "master avenging disciple," and although Jing yu himself didn't care about the win or loss…
The damage to the Fujiwara no Sai image would be real.
Jing yu looked rather frustrated.
He honestly didn't know if he could win this match.
When you're at the 8-dan or 9-dan level, the strength gap between players is razor-thin. He was basically on equal footing with that level, but in real matches, it's hard to say what might happen.
"Sigh…" Jing yu let out a tired breath, looking annoyed.
After all, he only knew Go because of a gifted skill book from the system.
He didn't actually like Go.
But now the TV station, the 'Hikaru no Go' fanbase, and tons of Go enthusiasts were all watching him, hoping he'd win. He couldn't just throw the match and be done with it.
"Teacher Jing yu, fighting!"
"You beat Huo Yu (7-dan) with a four-stone handicap, then Xu Jun (8-dan) with three stones—today, I bet you can beat Zhou Zhengguang (9-dan) with just two!"
His assistant—and hardcore little Go fan—Zhong Xiang immediately piped up with encouragement.
"I believe in you, Teacher Jing yu! Use a move that'll make Zhou tremble!"
"…You're thinking too simply," Jing yu shot her a glare, then turned to look at the main seating area.
"But it can't be helped. This match… I'm going all in.
I want to win."
Jing yu and Zhou Zhengguang took their seats at the table.
"Mr. Jing yu, pleasure to meet you. I'm Zhou Zhengguang."
Zhou gave a polite bow.
He wasn't nervous. Even if he lost this game and fans started questioning whether 9-dan pros were washed-up, he felt no pressure at all.
He was the classic "tournament beast" type of player.
"Hello, Mr. Zhou," Jing yu replied with a gentle smile.
He drew Black, Zhou would play White.
But there was no need for small talk now. In Go, what needed to be said was said on the board.
At exactly 9:00 AM, eight players, four matches, all started simultaneously.
Opening moves:
Jing yu took the top-right star point.
Zhou responded with the top-left star point.
They each claimed the four corners.
"Wow, they look so pro! You can tell the difference already."
"Okay, come on, that's just fluff. Even beginners and 9-dans start by taking the four corners."
"Fine, fine. Now let's see how Teacher Jing yu plays!"
"I'm nervous. I really want him to win…"
"Come on, Go Soul! Even if we can't see you, we believe you're behind Jing yu, helping him win!"
"Don't mind them. These people watched 'Hikaru no Go' too much—they think Jing yu is literally Hikaru, possessed by a Go spirit from a parallel universe. Young people today, tsk, don't believe in science…"
"Wait… Jing yu's picking up a piece… he's about to make his move…"
"Where will he place it?"
"Eh…?"
Fans paused.
"What the hell?"
"Did he slip?"
"He played 3-3… what??"
The 'Hikaru no Go' fan group, and Go groups across the web, especially among people who knew the basics of the game, were collectively stunned.
At the venue, in the viewing lounge where eliminated players watched the matches, everyone exchanged confused glances.
Huo Yu, Qian Yu, and Xu Jun—all players Jing yu had defeated yesterday—blinked in disbelief.
"What the hell?"
"Why there?"
"Why… the 3-3?"
Across the table, Zhou Zhengguang looked at the board… then at Jing yu… then back at the board again.
Opening with a 3-3 invasion?
Seriously?
Zhou's expression turned a little strange.
At top-level play, the difference between winning and losing often came down to a single point. Opening with a "bad" move like this? Was Jing yu underestimating him?
It begins.
Jing yu sighed internally.
Truth was, he didn't really like AlphaGo. That AI had changed the entire Go world—in a way that felt almost disgusting.
In his previous life, all the pros stopped thinking for themselves and just started studying AlphaGo's moves. Whatever AlphaGo played was considered the "best," and pros followed suit like sheep.
If the opponent opened with a star point, AlphaGo would immediately invade at 3-3.
Before AlphaGo, and even now in Great Zhou, such an opening was considered a bad move—especially so early in the game.
Sure, you could take a bit of solid territory by invading the corner at 3-3, but in standard patterns, the result was always that the opponent (in this case, Zhou's White stones) would gain a thick outside wall.
That's why Go teachers, even at basic community classes, told their students:
"If your opponent plays a star point, don't invade 3-3 right away—it's a losing play."
It was one of those deeply ingrained truths of Go—like how you just don't eat poop.
Until AlphaGo came along.
In its legendary streak of 60 straight online victories against top human players, AlphaGo always invaded at 3-3 after a star point—and used it to beat player after player.
It turned the Go world upside down.
Because AlphaGo didn't follow human logic. It created new variations of 3-3 invasions and won.
And if two AlphaGo AIs played each other?
They'd start by 3-3, invading all four corners.
Literally. All. Four. Corners.
After Go experts in Jing yu's previous life began fully understanding AlphaGo's logic, everything changed.
"When in doubt, invade 3-3."
"See a star point? 3-3 it immediately."
The Go community was disgusted.
But in Great Zhou…
This move Jing yu just played?
He was the first.