[Is this White Cloud Scholar some kind of grandmaster, or is he just using a tough computer to toy with us?]
[His rank is climbing a bit too fast, isn’t it?]
[From Bronze to Platinum in a day, and the problem is he didn’t even finish most games. That speed is a bit outrageous, no?]
[No, no, no, I don’t think he’s using a computer as a middleman. I watched a few games, and his opponent was genuinely strong. Probably some grandmaster’s alt account.]
[Why would a grandmaster need an alt account?]
[Could he be a foreigner?]
[Possibly!]
White Cloud Scholar: [I’m from China]
[Ha, we smoked him out.]
[He’s in a match, so he must have time to chat in the channel.]
[Who are you?]
White Cloud Scholar: [A Go enthusiast. I studied a lot of game records during a recent retreat and came online to get familiar.]
[You’re already at Platinum, so matchmaking is tough. You can invite other Platinum players.]
[Oh, look, Luo Shen is online. Match started. Let’s spectate!]
…
Half an hour later.
[Bloody hell?]
[No way!]
[It feels like Luo Shen was no different from his other opponents. They all got crushed without a chance to fight back.]
[Could it be his daughter playing on his account?]
[A bunch of amateurs. Can’t you see? Luo Shen was definitely giving it her all! This White Cloud Scholar has some serious skills, at least professional fifth dan or higher.]
…
In front of the computer, Lu Zheng nodded, feeling the various chess strategies in his mind had fully integrated.
“Jade Seal, enhance!”
“Buzz!”
Looking at the endgame again, he calculated for a while, then frowned and turned back to the computer. “Still not enough. I need more practice.”
…
Beijing Go Academy.
“What are you up to, bullying noobs online again?” Coach Liu Qingshan slapped Du Le on the shoulder.
“Nah, Coach, just watching the show. A wild card showed up on Penguin Go, tearing through everyone, hitting Platinum in a day,” Du Le said with a grin.
“Probably a rookie from some local Go academy, new to Penguin Go,” the coach said, chuckling.
“Doesn’t seem like a pro. I watched a few of his games, and his style varies wildly. It’s more like he studied some game records on his own and practiced randomly,” Du Le said.
“Pretty talented, then?” The coach shook his head. “But with such a chaotic style, his future achievements will be limited.”
Du Le rubbed his hands. “He even took down Li Dahai. My hands are itching. I’m challenging him.”
“Who’s Li Dahai?”
“An old teammate of mine, but he didn’t make it out of Sichuan.”
The coach shrugged. “After you’re done, go to the training room. Bullying noobs online won’t improve your skills.”
“Got it. One hour max, then I’ll head over,” Du Le said, waving before clicking to invite a match.
…
An hour later, Du Le returned to the training room.
“Coach.”
“Hm.”
“I lost…”
“What?”
…
Over three full days, Lu Zheng rocketed to the top King rank on Penguin Go, with a 100% win rate, averaging 52 minutes per game. His match history was filled with victories over professionally verified players with yellow V badges.
Players from local Go academies and the Beijing Go Academy all fell to him, none lasting more than an hour and a half.
His final opponent was He Jie, who held out for one hour, twenty-three minutes, and forty-five seconds. After that, no one dared to challenge him, but his private chat was flooded with messages asking for his contact details.
Hearing the news, Google announced they were considering reactivating AlphaGo to face this mysterious master.
…
But with my cheat, why wait for you to make a big show and hype it up for months until the whole world knows?
To many, this mysterious master would eventually reveal himself; his secrecy was just a ploy to drive up his value.
What they didn’t know was that the computer and all those national masters were merely tools for Lu Zheng to speed up his chess skill cooldown.
Tools, after all, are used and discarded, with no lingering value.
“Jade Seal, enhance!”
“Buzz!”
Shutting off the computer, Lu Zheng felt a surge of clarity in his mind. Black and white pieces flickered in his thoughts, forming lines, shapes, endgames, and game records…
Looking again at the endgame recorded from the cave elder, Lu Zheng’s eyes sparkled with brilliance, his gaze flashing with insight. Black and white pieces fell, sacrificing, surprising, reversing, then surprising and reversing again…
“Hiss—”
Lu Zheng sucked in a breath. “No wonder it’s a world with immortals. This endgame has some serious depth!”
“Saying what about royal power and wealth—fearing what about strict rules—” His phone rang. It was Lin Wan.
“Hello?”
“May Day holiday, where should we go?” Lin Wan asked cheerfully over the phone.
“How many days off?” Lu Zheng asked with a smile. “You were so busy earlier. Can you use those swapped days off now?”
“Hey, how did you know?” Lin Wan paused, then continued happily, “Four extra days off, plus the two weekend days after, that’s ten days in a row!”
“No question then, let’s go abroad!” Lu Zheng said, raising an eyebrow with a grin. “Find an island, soak up some sun, play in the water. How about the Aegean Sea?”
“No way, too expensive. You’ll just burn money. Let’s go to Singapore, Malaysia, or Thailand. Phuket or Pattaya would be great.”
At heart, Lin Wan was still a twenty-something girl. The thought of ten days off, swimming and sunbathing with Lu Zheng on an island, made her eyes crinkle with joy.
“Alright, it’s settled. I’ll book the tickets later. We’ll leave on the night of the 30th,” Lu Zheng said. “Free and easy trip!”
“Great!”
Lu Zheng glanced outside. The sky was darkening, and it was already past five. Even if he crossed to the ancient world now, there wouldn’t be time to visit the deep mountain cave.
“No overtime today, right?” Lu Zheng asked. “Shall I pick you up after work?”
“Sure!” Lin Wan laughed. “No overtime tonight.”
…
The next day, Lin Wan woke first, kissed Lu Zheng on the face, got dressed, and left.
Lu Zheng opened his eyes, crossed to the ancient world, changed clothes, ate the breakfast prepared by Aunt Liu, then headed out of the city toward the northeastern mountains.
“Apologies, Senior, for disturbing you again.”
“Hm?” The elder looked puzzled but said, “Come in.”
Lu Zheng entered the cave. The elder glanced over, and before Lu Zheng could bow, he waved to interrupt. “You have new ideas?”
Lu Zheng nodded. “Indeed, and in my own games, white has won.”
“Oh?” The elder raised an eyebrow, not particularly impressed. In his thirty years, he’d had similar illusions several times. To him, Lu Zheng’s claim of white winning was likely due to his insufficient skill.
“Let’s try,” the elder said calmly, gesturing for Lu Zheng to sit opposite.
Lu Zheng approached, lifted his robe, and sat cross-legged. Without hesitation, he picked up a white piece and placed it gently.
The elder shook his head, playing a black piece.
After seven moves, Lu Zheng’s position grew increasingly dire. The elder’s eyes showed disappointment, feeling Lu Zheng was rushing. This white strategy seemed worse than his initial attempts.
At that moment, Lu Zheng’s white piece suddenly landed in a trap, sacrificing a large group, clearing a section of the board.
“Hm?” The elder froze, taken aback.
