Everyone watched in silence.
“Zhuang Weisheng...”
The bespectacled youth stared at him in a daze, visibly moved by the expression on his face.
“For Zhuang Weisheng to say such words... why does it feel so different this ti?”
Zhuang Weisheng was the idol of countless Go players—a na synonymous with perfection.
As one who stood at the very summit of the Go world, he had spoken similar words many tis before: “I look forward to facing so-and-so.”
But now... this ti, the feeling was completely different.
Before, those words had sounded like encouragent—praise given from a ntor to the younger generation.
But now... it felt like a challenge.
When the word “challenge” surfaced in the young man’s mind, even he couldn’t quite believe it.
“Though my heart trembles, I must face him.”
“Only when one dares to face a stronger opponent with reverence can they truly grow.”
“To chase with trembling steps, to challenge with humble awe—only then can one touch the higher realms of Go.”
For so reason, his childhood teacher’s words echoed in his ears.
Zhuang Weisheng was challenging a 17-year-old, a boy who hadn’t even been a pro for a full year?
And not only he—everyone in the club could feel it too, in Zhuang’s tone and eyes.
The air turned even heavier.
Yu Shao t Zhuang’s eyes and, after a brief pause, nodded slowly.
“I look forward to that match as well.”
Zhuang Weisheng said no more. Under everyone’s gaze, he turned and left.
Jiang Changdong gave Yu Shao one last long look, took a deep breath, and followed silently behind.
Once the two had departed, Yu Shao looked back at the board, an unreadable glint in his eyes.
On this board—this tangled, blood-soaked battlefield—he could almost see the shadows of the sages of Go across four thousand years,
...as well as that emotionless, suffocating Go AI from another world that crushed all human effort.
Across ti and space, they t again here—on this 19x19 battlefield—for a brutal, once-in-an-era clash.
Every stone cried. Every move bled.
Even now, the echoes of that rciless combat seed to linger across the empty grid.
A mont later, Yu Shao silently began gathering the stones.
One by one, they fell back into the bowl.
When he finished, he stood.
Still, no one spoke.
Under the silent stares of everyone present, Yu Shao walked out of the club alone, vanishing into the night.
Even after he left, the club remained dead silent.
Everyone’s gaze drifted back to Zhu Xinyuan, who still sat quietly at the board—his expression a mystery.
They looked again at the now-empty board. Even though the stones had been packed away, the echoes of each move still reverberated in their hearts.
Tick, tick, tick.
The wall clock kept ticking, indifferent to ti.
When the ga began, the sun was still high. Now, the world outside had been swallowed by dusk, and the lighting inside was faint and dim.
The mood was heavy—profoundly so.
When people had heard that Zhu Xinyuan and Yu Shao would play again in this little club, they’d been thrilled, excited beyond belief.
They knew it would be an amazing match.
And indeed—it was.
But now, with the ga concluded... none of them felt joy.
Just a suffocating sadness.
Too brilliant.
Too tragic.
A ga to rember for a lifeti.
And such gas… always co with a price.
For one man to rise, many must fall.
All they felt was sorrow.
“We may see many gas in our lives... but this one—we’ll never forget.”
Soone whispered.
No one answered.
Not long after, people began to leave, one by one.
Outside the club, as they stepped into the glowing night streets, they felt an odd emptiness inside.
Half an hour later.
Soone uploaded the ga record online—complete with photos from inside the club.
And then...
It exploded.
“A second match?”
“Didn’t they just finish one?”
“A rematch? Who won?”
It was around 7 PM when the second ga ended.
People were still discussing the first when news of the second dropped like a bomb.
Once the record was posted, it spread like wildfire across the internet within two hours.
At first, only a few saw it. Then they shared it. Then their friends shared it...
The ga went viral.
It was too much. Too shocking.
With the context of the first match—this second one beca a tragedy. A legend.
It quickly spread overseas as well, climbing the international forums with terrifying speed.
Nightfall. Jiangling. Inside a hotel.
Ding Huan sat at his desk, staring at his screen.
He chain-smoked one cigarette after another.
He had to write an article about a recent Go match, but no words ca.
The ga was good, sure. A decent 100-point kill.
But... nothing inspired him.
“Ugh... it’s due tomorrow...”
He scratched his head and groaned.
Then his phone rang.
Ding Huan glanced at the caller ID. It was his boss, Ma Zhengyu.
He groaned even louder.
“Ahh... the damn foreman’s calling again...”
Still, he answered.
Before Ma could speak, Ding began defensively:
“Almost done! I’m writing! Give a break, even a donkey gets to rest!”
Ma interrupted imdiately, his tone urgent:
“Did you see that new ga record online?”
“New what?”
Ding blinked.
“You an the match between Yu Shao and Zhu Xinyuan?”
“No! Not the one from the title tournant. The second match!”
“Wait—they played again?”
“Yes!” Ma sounded like he was pacing now.
“Forget your current article. Drop everything. Read that record. Tonight!”
Ding Huan was stunned.
“You serious? They just played a casual match. What’s the big deal?”
“Just read it.” Ma’s voice was growing hoarse.
“It’s blowing up online! We’re changing the cover story of the first issue of Go: Blood and Tears magazine. This is it!”
“Wait—what?! I thought the cover was already set! That historic match between Shin Goh and An Hongseok!”
“Forget that. THIS is the story. Trust —just go read the record.”
Grumbling, Ding opened his browser and typed:
“Yu Shao, Zhu Xinyuan.”
“...What the h*ll?”
He swore.
Trending #9.
And still climbing.
He clicked the top post and opened the ga record.
At first, his face was calm.
Then—confused.
Then—doubtful.
Then—shocked.
“Fifty-point sacrifice... twenty moves later, total reversal...”
He nearly shouted.
That alone was enough to make history.
But it wasn’t over.
When he saw how Black crushed White...
Only for White’s dead stones to link together and launch a rebellion from within…
Ding Huan went completely silent.
At last, he understood why Ma had changed the cover.
Go: Blood and Tears.
Blood. Tears.
Could anything better capture those words?
Ma's voice returned over the phone:
“Finished reading?”
Ding Huan swallowed hard.
“Yeah… yeah. I get it now.”
“Good.” Ma’s tone turned serious.
“This story—I’m trusting only you with it. You’re the most talented writer we have. You got any inspiration?”
Ding’s face turned red with excitent.
“This ga? This freaking ga?! I’ve never been so fired up in my life! I’ve already got the title!”
“Hit .”
“The Eternal Injustice Ga, A Chronicle of Blood and Tears!”
Ma slamd his desk.
“Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Now go write—I want it by midnight!”
“Leave it to !”
Ding Huan hung up, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.
anwhile, Ma dialed another number.
“Li Chu. You saw that ga, right? Good. I have a mission for you—just for you, because I trust only you. You know we’re launching Go: Blood and Tears, right?”
“This is the cover story. Get writing. If it’s good, you’re the new editor-in-chief.”
Then he called another journalist.
And another.
“You’re the only one I trust.”
anwhile, back in the hotel room, Ding Huan’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Yu Shao—a na the Go world will never forget.”
"Barely a year since turning pro, yet already crafting masterpieces that will outlive us all.”
“This ga... it wasn’t just Go. It was legend.”
“Blood. Tears. And glory.”
“And perhaps... even those words are not enough.”
“This was—The Eternal Injustice Ga, A Chronicle of Blood and Tears.”
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