Chapter 104: I Yield the First Move to All Under Heaven; I Invite You to Sit

As Zou Lin’s name was revealed, the two scholars finally found their courage.

Their earlier panic and unease instantly eased; after all, the former chess champion of Daqing sat right before them, and they firmly believed that with Zou Lin present, they would surely turn danger into safety.

A person’s chess strength peaks in early adulthood, after learning from childhood; beyond thirty, age becomes a growing burden.

Two hundred years ago, a man hailed as the Chess Sage entered the ninth rank at nine, became invincible at fourteen, and even prompted the chess world to create a new rank above the first—“Tenth Rank.”

Though the green-robed Daoist was formidable in martial arts, they did not believe he could match Zou Lin in chess.

Zou Lin merely waved his hand humbly and said, “I cannot accept such praise.”

He was confident in his chess skills, renowned across the nation; though past his prime, only a handful in Daqing could defeat him, and he disliked such “provocative” arrangements.

Yet when his daughter’s life was at stake, he chose silence, offering no opposition.

Zou Lin was not a rigid man.

In chess, facing a stranger, one fears most novel and bizarre moves.

Thus, they decided to send several players first to probe the green-robed Daoist’s style.

This would give him a better chance of victory.

Feng Long possessed extraordinary talent; his chess skill had already reached the Third Rank.

The Third Rank is called “Concrete”—his play balanced offense and defense flawlessly.

Yet Feng Long was easily distracted, his focus scattered, spending relatively little time studying or playing.

Had he devoted himself more fully to chess, he would surely have risen to the Second Rank.

The beautiful woman, Zou Shuning, was exceptionally gifted; her chess skill had already reached the Second Rank, a rarity in Daqing.

Second Rank chess is called “Sitting Illumination”—those who enter it can play with half a handicap, their style ethereal, adaptable, able to respond effortlessly without deliberation.

Zou Lin sighed; he knew his daughter possessed even greater talent and potential in chess, but sadly, her endgame technique remained weak.

She excelled in the opening, capable of matching a First Rank player for the first fifty moves, but her personality made her endgame indecisive, preventing her from ever reaching First Rank.

Yet even so, her Second Rank skill was sufficient to probe an opponent’s depth.

The green-robed Daoist smiled faintly, ignoring their conversation entirely.

He sat down calmly, posture relaxed.

His gaze fixed on the board—the 19 horizontal and 19 vertical lines intersected, the 361 intersections like scattered stars, the eight star points glowing brightly, the Tianyuan resting silently at the center.

On the board, every stone carried infinite variation, famously called “no two games alike since ancient times.”

The green-robed Daoist picked up the white stone bowl, composed and unhurried.

He was in no rush!

He gently tapped the board with a stone; the sound echoed in their ears like a demonic chant, pressing an invisible pressure upon them.

The thin scholar, hearing the tapping, felt restless, yet dared not speak in this setting.

After deliberation, they decided the fat scholar would play first, followed by the thin scholar, Feng Long, and then the beautiful woman.

Su Zi did understand the rules but had not studied deeply, so he did not participate; the white-robed woman knew nothing of chess.

Once decided, the group was astonished to discover the beautiful woman’s skill was so high.

It made the thin scholar, who had just boasted, feel embarrassed.

The fat scholar had the weakest skill, barely scraping into the Ninth Rank—barely even considered skilled; he had just begun to glimpse chess, his play clumsy, full of flaws—this was called “Shou Zhuo,” Ninth Rank.

The green-robed Daoist held white stones and chose to play with a handicap, meaning black moved first.

Zou Lin frowned slightly; black moving first granted a significant advantage in chess.

In a game, who moves first is usually advantageous; typically, if both players are evenly matched, the elder draws stones to decide; if skill differs greatly, the stronger player draws first.

The old man observed the green-robed Daoist’s posture—he clearly always played white.

The fat scholar, however, felt no guilt; with others behind him, he played boldly and freely, truly “exhilarating.”

The crowd gathered closer, including Su Zi and the white-robed woman.

The white-robed woman had briefly considered a surprise tactic, but quickly realized that against a Grand Master, any unconventional move would be futile.

The Grand Master’s realm had transcended ordinary understanding.

Su Zi glanced at the two of you, lips parting, then fell silent.

If these few lose, the green-robed Daoist will face you.

Their lives now rest in your hands; Su Zi felt an unfamiliar emotion stir within him.

If you watched closely, perhaps you could “foresee the outcome and find the winning chance.”

Zou Shuning’s gaze was strange; clearly, this Grand Master had come for you two.

These few had been swept into this unexpected vortex.

Who is this Grand Master, and who are you two?

The more Zou Shuning thought, the more agitated she became; people always fear and resent what they cannot control.

Her eyes returned to the board—no surprise, she had lost!

The fat scholar showed no depression; instead, he felt like a victorious general.

Zou Shuning sighed; the loss came too quickly, serving no purpose.

The green-robed Daoist smiled and said: “Lose me one head.”

The fat scholar instantly deflated, nearly kneeling to beg for mercy.

The second player, the thin scholar, barely reached the middle game, already shattered and routed; seeing no hope, he resigned.

The green-robed Daoist said calmly: “Another head.”

Everyone’s faces darkened.

Feng Long stepped forward, soon hesitating, lost in deep thought.

The green-robed Daoist was not in a hurry; outside the temple, heavy rain began to fall.

Inside the temple, only two scenes: the center, where several gathered to watch the game; one side, you two sat alone.

“Lost!”

The handsome youth Feng Long sighed deeply, glancing at the green-robed Daoist.

This man was unquestionably First Rank—crushing him with ease.

Zou Shuning’s face grew grim; the green-robed Daoist’s three games had all differed, offering no pattern to follow.

Zou Lin saw deeper: this man’s skill was likely even more terrifying than imagined.

When had Daqing’s chess circles produced such a figure?

The first two games were bold and strange; the third, cautious and deliberate.

Most terrifying of all!

His moves grew faster—first game, he played normally; now, as soon as his opponent moved, the green-robed Daoist had already placed his second stone.

Zou Shuning stepped forward for the third game; the green-robed Daoist responded just as decisively.

Her strongest opening failed to help; by move forty or fifty, she felt surrounded, with no viable moves left.

Had Zou Lin met such a player under normal circumstances, he would have welcomed it as a blessing; now, he felt only bitterness.

Even when playing his daughter, he dared not slacken.

The green-robed Daoist’s ease suggested he was surely First Rank.

“I lose.”

Zou Shuning clenched her slender hands tightly, disbelieving—no one had ever beaten her so thoroughly; with first move, the opponent had seized every advantage.

Especially in the endgame, he had trapped her within the very framework she had set in the opening.

The green-robed Daoist seemed to be reminding her: everything had been foreseen.

Zou Lin patted his daughter’s shoulder, signaling “It’s fine.”

But Zou Shuning felt despair; she knew her father’s skill, though great, was unlikely to defeat this green-robed Daoist.

At this moment, the onlookers’ faces were grim, tension thick; they had hoped Zou Shuning might have a chance—but now, the green-robed Daoist’s strength was clearly unfathomable.

They began to worry whether the old man who would face the Daoist next could win.

Zou Lin sat down.

The green-robed Daoist again held white; black moved first.

The old man frowned but said nothing, quietly picking up the black stones.

The green-robed Daoist understood the old man’s thoughts.

He said softly:

“In all my life playing chess, I yield the first move to all under heaven.”

The green-robed Daoist looked at you and said:

“But today, I wish to use these eight heads to invite you to sit.”

(End of Chapter)