When Zhou Zhengguang saw Jing yu's smile, his heart skipped a beat.
Wait… was this a trap?
Did Jing yu predict I'd copy his moves and deliberately set this up from the start?
Of course, he was overthinking it.
The reason the 3-3 invasion had become so popular in Jing yu's past world wasn't because it was clearly good for Black or White. If one side gained a guaranteed advantage by playing this pattern, it never would've become widespread—everyone would simply avoid it when it's not in their favor.
The key problem was this:
Could Zhou Zhengguang, in the span of just two hours, comprehend the dozens of post-3-3 variations explored by AlphaGo?
This move, in Jing yu's past world, had been repeatedly torn apart and reassembled by elite professionals. They spent years dissecting its flaws, refining responses, and evolving their understanding. It wasn't until the dust settled that the community finally agreed on which lines were viable.
So no—Zhou wasn't going to figure it all out on the fly.
Jing yu didn't say a word. He just kept exchanging moves with Zhou—fast, precise.
As expected, Zhou mimicked Jing yu's earlier strategy exactly.
"Let's see how you deal with your own tricks," Zhou thought, eyes locked on Jing yu.
Jing yu returned his gaze.
Now, if Zhou had incredibly sharp intuition—if he managed to perfectly follow the right sequence as White—then the 3-3 exchange might end up relatively balanced.
But… if he missed even one critical move?
He'd fall straight into a pit.
Zhou looked at the board.
Jing yu, now playing as Black, had again made an early extension—deviating from standard play.
So Zhou tried to keep up: he also moved out early to prevent Jing yu from gaining tempo. Jing yu then countered with a sharp hane. Zhou responded with a tiger's mouth.
Several more moves later…
"Wait… what?"
Zhou's eyes froze.
He stared hard at the local formation, trying to read out all the possible continuations.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Then five.
Finally, with a sigh, Zhou closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.
No more time to think.
Each player only had one hour. The clock was ticking.
He made his move: the standard hane-and-attach.
"Wait—what's Zhou doing?"
"Why did he hane and attach? Isn't that what Jing yu deliberately avoided earlier?"
"Right?? The whole point of Jing yu's sequence was to deny White a thick outer wall! Now Zhou's just giving Black everything again!"
"Hey, hey, hey—don't flame him too hard. If White doesn't hane and attach, then Black gets the chance to do it first. And that's even worse."
"True… if Black gets in that move, White's entire shape collapses. The little corner territory from the 3-3 gets even more squeezed."
"But by playing hane himself, White ends up handing over exactly the kind of outer influence that Jing yu wants. It's like walking into a trap."
"I can't believe one 3-3 sequence has so many traps. Jing yu literally forced Zhou into playing the worst variation."
In the upper-right corner, Zhou had once again fallen into a pitfall.
In the observation room, the group of eliminated players—amateur and pro alike—stared at Jing yu on the live feed.
Calm, composed, poised.
Utterly infuriating.
"But we have to admit," said Qian Yu with a long sigh, "Jing yu played both star points and 3-3s in this match. That means in his understanding, both sides are viable. If he thought 3-3 was a losing strategy in any situation, he would never use it so confidently."
"Exactly," Huo Yu nodded, deep in thought. "There must be a correct response out there. One that keeps the result even. If not, Jing yu wouldn't use it at this level."
"I just hope Teacher Zhou can find the counterplay…" murmured Xu Jun, looking increasingly uneasy.
This match was getting absurd.
All four corners had started with star points.
Zhou had now lost the exchange in two of those corners. In one corner, Jing yu had already placed a 3-3 against Zhou's star point. In the remaining one, Zhou hadn't moved yet…
If Zhou gets stubborn and tries another 3-3, he might lose the fourth corner too.
Ten minutes later, the fight in the third corner erupted.
Jing yu, armed with knowledge from countless pro matches and post-game reviews in his past life, once again walked Zhou step-by-step into a familiar trap.
Another slight loss for Zhou.
"It's over…"
Xu Jun's face went pale.
"Three out of four corners lost… how do you come back from that?"
"What kind of sorcery is this?? Just one 3-3 invasion and there are this many variations?"
Qian Yu looked nauseated.
"The same strategy. First on Black, then on White. Jing yu used it three times to punish a 9-dan pro. What kind of nightmare is this?"
Even Zhou's iron mental state was beginning to crack.
"We have to admit…" one player said slowly.
"This kid—he's not just strong. Even in a head-to-head, raw-strength match, he's not weaker than Zhou."
"But add in these weird, prepared traps…"
"How did he get this good? No one's heard of him. I even asked around in the pro circles—no one knows him."
"Right now, our entire pro chat group is melting down over this 3-3 opening," said Xu Jun, eyes glued to his phone. "The chat's usually dead. Today, over a hundred pros are in there, screaming over this one move."
"We're all panicking," Qian Yu muttered, typing furiously. "Because if we don't figure out every variation of this 3-3 sequence, we're going to get destroyed by it in future matches."
Zhou Zhengguang stared at the board in front of him, feeling his grip on the game slipping.
He hadn't lost—yet.
But at this level of play, if you lose three out of four corners, the overall situation is already disadvantaged.
The win probability had dropped significantly.
Then—
With a flash of stubbornness in his eyes, Zhou struck the board with one more White stone.
Another 3-3.
Again, against a star point.
"You think I'll let you school me four times?"
"Let's go. One more time!"
Pure brute-force stubbornness.
Meanwhile, Su Lin had just finished his own match.
He looked relaxed.
His opponent had been a slow player, so the match had dragged on longer than expected.
"Wonder how Old Zhou's match is going?"
"He's up against that Jing yu guy, so maybe it's still going on…"
"Then again, Zhou always uses wild and unpredictable moves. Maybe he caught Jing yu off-guard and ended it fast."
As he walked toward the observation room, he was greeted by total silence.
Inside, Huo Yu, Xu Jun, and Qian Yu—all eliminated pros—were glued to the screen.
Blank stares. Frozen expressions.
That's not right…
Su Lin turned toward the monitor.
On screen: Jing yu vs. Zhou Zhengguang.
He looked at the board.
The outcome was clear:
Zhou was losing.
He leaned closer, examined the board carefully—
And then, his eyes went wide with disbelief.