For a new 1-dan professional, there was a clear distinction between soone who had just turned pro and soone who had already spent ti in the professional circuit.
The grind of professional tournants rapidly shaped a player's intuition, resilience, judgnt, and ntal fortitude—qualities unique to pros.
That was why most newly promoted players struggled to win matches at first.
Only a rare few managed to go on an imdiate winning streak.
"Even though he joined the National Master Tournant partway through, after three consecutive wins, his ranking isn’t low anymore. The more he wins, the stronger his future opponents will be."
"With three wins, his next opponent could be…"
A teenager with acne-covered skin turned toward Table 5, staring at a bespectacled 18-year-old seated there.
"Tong Lecheng, 3-dan. He’s been in a slump recently, losing multiple matches and dropping in ranking."
"Will Tong Lecheng be the one to end his streak?"
Many others followed his gaze, seemingly sharing the sa thought.
Of course, this was just speculation.
With several rounds already completed, there were many possible opponents for a 3-win player.
But Tong Lecheng was a unique case.
He wasn’t stuck at 3-dan because his strength was limited to that level.
Rather, since turning pro two years ago, his high tournant placents ant he frequently faced higher-ranked players.
And the more he played against high-dan professionals, the more likely he was to lose.
Those losses brought down his overall win rate, slowing his promotion pace—a consequence of not participating in direct ranking tournants.
"Will it be him?"
"The next round of the National Master Tournant isn't for another ten days. In the anti, I’ll have to play in the Yingjiao Cup preliminaries."
After finishing his al at the Go academy’s cafeteria, Yu Shao headed toward the entrance, lost in thought.
In this world, Go tournants were abundant.
After becoming a professional, the average player had to compete in two matches per week.
That ant around ten gas per month.
Even factoring in holidays, a pro would still play over a hundred matches per year.
And that was not including tournants with daily matches over consecutive days.
"Nearly a third of the year is spent playing official gas. That’s… exhausting."
"Yu Shao, 1-dan?"
A voice called out behind him, interrupting his thoughts.
Yu Shao paused, turning around with a slightly puzzled expression.
A tall, slender man in his late twenties approached with a friendly smile.
Within monts, he stood directly in front of Yu Shao.
"And you are…?"
Yu Shao felt like the man looked sowhat familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had seen him before.
"I’m Ding Huan, a reporter for the Southern Go Academy. I was present at the Fla Inheritance Match a while back."
Seeing Yu Shao’s lack of recognition, Ding Huan looked montarily awkward, but he quickly brushed it off and continued.
"Do you have a mont? I’ve been hoping to do an interview with you."
"An interview?"
Yu Shao blinked.
Ding Huan nodded, still smiling.
"I’ve wanted to interview you for a while now, and since we just ran into each other today, I figured we could have a quick chat. It won’t take much of your ti—would that be alright?"
Since the request seed casual, Yu Shao nodded and agreed.
"Sure."
Ding Huan was a little surprised by Yu Shao’s calm deanor.
Most new 1-dans would be at least a little nervous or excited about their first professional interview.
But Yu Shao was unnervingly composed.
In fact, his reaction was so natural that Ding Huan almost got the illusion that Yu Shao was already experienced with dia interviews.
However, he didn’t dwell on it.
He simply assud that Yu Shao’s personality was naturally steady and reserved.
With a chuckle, he gestured ahead.
"Let’s head to the academy’s interview room."
"Wait, there’s an actual interview room?"
Yu Shao was surprised by the ntion of an interview room but simply nodded and followed Ding Huan inside.
The room wasn’t large.
A round table sat at the center, holding two glass trays filled with mints, biscuits, and two bottles of water.
Two sofas were arranged on either side.
"Yu Shao, take a seat over there while I set up the cara."
Ding Huan smiled as he entered, unlocking a cabinet and pulling out a cara.
"I’ll ask you so questions, but just answer however you like. If there's anything you don’t want to answer, that’s fine too—no pressure."
"Alright."
Yu Shao nodded, then took a seat on the sofa.
Ding Huan worked swiftly, adjusting the cara angle and securing it onto a tripod.
His movents were practiced—as expected of a seasoned reporter.
After finishing the setup, he sat down across from Yu Shao.
"Just think of this as a casual conversation."
Still concerned that Yu Shao might feel nervous, he reassured him with a smile.
"I’ll just ask so simple questions."
"Got it."
Yu Shao replied calmly.
"You can start."
"From what I know, you didn’t train at a dojo. You beca a professional by earning a perfect score in the amateur promotion tournant."
Ding Huan smiled.
"I’m curious—how long have you been playing Go?"
…
Yu Shao’s mind blanked for a second.
This is a ‘simple’ question?!
He hadn’t expected such a difficult opener.
After so thought, he hesitated briefly before giving a number.
"Two or three years."
He couldn’t give a number too high—if he claid he had been playing for seven or eight years, his parents, Yu Dongming and Cai Xiaoi, would have definitely noticed.
So he could only say he had studied for a short ti.
"Three years?"
Ding Huan’s eyes widened in shock.
He barely registered the ‘two or three years’ part—his mind fixated on ‘three’.
"Yeah."
Yu Shao nodded stiffly, suddenly regretting agreeing to this interview.
Seeing Yu Shao confirm it, Ding Huan took a sharp breath, montarily stunned.
Still trying to process it, he asked another question.
"Then who was your Go teacher? Even if you ca from an amateur background, you must have had a ntor, right?"
"I’m self-taught."
Yu Shao shook his head.
"I didn’t have a teacher."
Silence.
Ding Huan stared at him, completely speechless.
His expression practically scread: ‘Are you ssing with ?!’
Three years of self-study… and he beca a professional?
If Yu Shao had trained at a dojo, he could just barely accept it.
But self-taught?!
That was outrageous!
"Actually, I think not having a teacher helped ."
Yu Shao explained.
"Since I wasn’t bound by traditional Go theory, I could play purely by intuition."
"Take the 3-3 invasion, for example. People argue about it online, but I’ve always felt it was a strong move."
"In the three matches I’ve played so far, I’ve chosen the 3-3 twice."
Ding Huan’s expression shifted slightly.
"How did those two gas turn out?"
He couldn’t forget the shock he had felt when Yu Shao had played the 3-3 invasion in the Fla Inheritance Match.
Whether or not the move was truly correct, the thought process behind it was revolutionary.
That ga challenged centuries-old assumptions—turning "you can’t play 3-3" into "should we reconsider 3-3?"
If Yu Shao had trained at a dojo, he never would have played it.
Only a self-taught player could break conventions like this.
"I’m currently on a three-ga winning streak."
Yu Shao answered simply.
Ding Huan inhaled deeply, suppressing his shock.
Then, after a mont, he asked another question.
"So, do you think training at a dojo is unnecessary?"
Hearing this, Yu Shao frowned slightly.
This was a sharp question.
After a brief pause, he shook his head.
"No, dojos are definitely valuable. The effort that aspiring professionals put in at dojos is never wasted."
"However…"
Yu Shao hesitated for a mont before continuing.
"I believe Go should be free."
"Just because sothing has always been done a certain way doesn’t an it’s right."
"If joining a dojo ans blindly following old traditions—then perhaps it's better not to join at all."
"But the 3-3 invasion still isn’t proven correct, right?"
Ding Huan countered.
"Most professionals still believe it's flawed."
Yu Shao fell into silence.
"If it's truly flawed—"
A mont later, he lifted his head, his eyes calm yet piercing.
"—then let him prove it to through his moves."
Ding Huan’s mind shook.
He looked at Yu Shao, and for the first ti, he saw sothing far beyond just a promising young player.
This was soone who sought to overturn the old order.
A player determined to shake the very foundations of Go.
It wasn’t that professionals denied the idea of a 3-3 invasion followed by an extended crawl.
In fact, many respected the creative thought behind it.
They admired how Yu Shao had abandoned the standard "hane-connect for life" approach, choosing instead to crawl along the second line, aiming to sever White’s shape.
But—
That didn’t an they accepted the 3-3 invasion itself.
Many high-level players—**including 9-dans and title holders—**firmly believed the 3-3 move itself was fundantally flawed.
And yet—
"He doesn’t fear high-dan players.
He doesn’t fear 9-dans.
He doesn’t fear title holders!"
"He has declared his challenge to the world of professional Go!"
Ding Huan didn’t know how the Go community would react once this interview was published.
But he knew one thing for sure.
Yu Shao’s na… would shake the world.
"This isn’t just a battle of skill."
"It’s a battle of ideology."
"And in this fight, only the victor will have the right to speak."
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