Chapter 44: Breaking the Zhenlong Go Pattern

“Please, Master Congbian.”

Zhang Jie sat calmly on the stone bench opposite the go board.

Though in this life he was a beggar who could barely afford a meal,

he knew nothing of go, not even the basics,

but what could he do? He had a cheat system.

With the enhanced memory and idle dedication to go study from the Water Margin version of Zhang Jie,

his go skill, though not at the level of a national master, was certainly that of a strong player.

Zhang Jie: I never cheat! How is relying on myself cheating?

Every achievement I have today is the result of my own hard work!

After further enhancing his intellect and spiritual power,

Zhang Jie’s go skill underwent another transformation, reaching the realm of a national master.

Zhang Jie could only shrug.

Unlike the mathematical abyss, which demands absolute intelligence and inspiration only gods can transcend,

go requires little inspiration—only sufficient calculation power,

and victory can be nearly guaranteed.

In the 21st century, he showed go talent from childhood, becoming a professional dan at age twelve,

winning the Samsung Cup World Championship at thirteen, becoming the youngest world go champion ever;

he later won numerous domestic and international go tournaments, including four Samsung Cups,

two Bai Ling Cups, one Meng Baihe Cup, and one Xin Ao Cup,

becoming China’s youngest “Eight-Time Champion,”

even the so-called “Go Sage” Ke Jie was defeated by AlphaGo.

Thus, go entered its decline: many players stopped studying the game,

instead memorizing AI-generated game records.

…

Tap. Tap. Tap…

Su Xinghe, naturally gifted and having devoted decades to go practice, was unquestionably a national master.

Two national masters faced off; without much thought, they played move after move.

The clack of stones on the board formed a crisp, melodious symphony of rising and falling notes.

Watching their fluid movements, Xue Muhua’s eyes sparkled with awe.

Seeing Zhang Jie holding his own against his master Su Xinghe, even gaining a slight edge,

he began to feel joy:

“Perhaps, young Zhang might actually break the Zhenlong Go Pattern today!”

Excited, Xue Muhua forcibly suppressed his inner thrill, afraid any sound might disturb

Zhang Jie and Su Xinghe, who had entered a state where nothing existed beyond the board.

“Here it comes!”

Suddenly, Zhang Jie whispered inwardly, lost in the game.

He knew this was the critical moment of the Zhenlong Go Pattern: the choice of sacrifice.

In the original story, Duan Yu, prince of Dali’s Zhen Nan Kingdom, was a skilled go player,

but his excessive compassion prevented him from sacrificing stones, and he ultimately failed to solve the pattern.

Murong Fu, obsessed with power, dared to sacrifice stones but could not abandon his advantage, and failed as well.

Duan Yanqing, the leader of the Four Evils, crippled and forced to study dark arts,

was overwhelmed by inner demons, nearly committing suicide during the game, saved only by Xu Zhu.

Fan Bailing, the go demon and a master of the game,

repeatedly spat blood from overcalculating, saved by Su Xinghe.

Only Kumārajīva, the Tibetan state preceptor, participated in the game

but, knowing he could not win, withdrew immediately, thus remaining unharmed.

“What will you choose?”

Su Xinghe watched Zhang Jie expectantly, wondering what choice he would make,

whether he could solve the Zhenlong Go Pattern, which his master Wuyaozi had spent three years studying.

“It’s simple.”

Zhang Jie’s lips curled slightly.

Though his go skill could never match Wuyaozi, the all-around master of music, go, calligraphy, and painting,

nor could he solve the Zhenlong Go Pattern in a short time—he was a man who had read the script.

The secret to solving the Zhenlong Go Pattern lay in seven characters: “Place yourself in death, then be reborn!”

Zhang Jie, playing black, suddenly placed a stone in a position completely surrounded by Su Xinghe’s white stones.

“This…”

Xue Muhua’s face was filled with confusion—he had no idea what Zhang Jie meant.

Placing a black stone inside white stones—was this not suicide?

“Could it be that young Zhang, knowing he cannot win, seeks a dignified way to surrender?”

Xue Muhua began to speculate on Zhang Jie’s intentions.

Young men care about face; avoiding direct surrender is normal.

“Why?” Su Xinghe frowned.

He could not understand why Zhang Jie, who had been evenly matched with him, suddenly made this move.

“Could there be some secret I don’t know?”

Su Xinghe fell into deep thought.

He refused to believe a national master of equal skill would choose “suicide” to surrender.

Yet no matter how hard he thought, he could not fathom Zhang Jie’s purpose.

Zhang Jie’s move was like placing the first stone on the center point at the very start of the game.

Playing the center point was equivalent to giving up half a move, instantly reducing one’s winning chance by roughly ten percent.

In go, there is a saying: “Gold in the corners, silver on the sides, grass in the center.”

The corners hold the greatest value because they are easiest to enclose territory, most efficient,

and also easiest to make alive—meaning one is less likely to die before completing one’s plan.

Conversely, the center point is despised: on one hand, it cannot efficiently enclose territory;

on the other, it is easily attacked and hard to defend.

Almost no player places their first stone on the center point.

“Alas!

Is there truly no way to solve the Zhenlong Go Pattern left by my master?”

Su Xinghe sighed inwardly.

Even a national master like Zhang Jie was forced to nearly surrender outright—

could he still hope for Bei Qiao Feng or Nan Murong?

Bei Qiao Feng and Nan Murong were both outstanding young heroes,

but they were martial artists, their energy mostly devoted to martial arts.

Their go skill could never surpass Zhang Jie’s.

Despite his inner sorrow, Su Xinghe’s hands never paused.

Even though Zhang Jie had nearly surrendered, as long as he had not spoken the words,

the game must continue until a clear winner emerged.

Unlike Xue Muhua, whose face was grim, and Su Xinghe, whose brow was furrowed,

Zhang Jie remained relaxed and composed, showing no sign of his earlier “suicide.”

With the sound of “tap, tap, tap,” the game neared its end.

Zhang Jie’s black stones were completely surrounded by Su Xinghe’s white stones; his great dragon was immobilized,

and with one more move, Su Xinghe could simply slaughter Zhang Jie’s dragon and declare victory.

“Pity. Such a pity.”

Xue Muhua felt deep regret.

A boy of extraordinary talent could not overcome a veteran who had trained for decades.

Su Xinghe’s heart was heavy with bitterness.

If he missed Zhang Jie now, he would likely never find another who could solve the Zhenlong Go Pattern.

“Must my master pass away with this regret?”

Su Xinghe struggled inwardly.

His pride forbade him to let up—but Master Wuyaozi had little time left.

At most three years, at least half a year, Wuyaozi would join his ancestor Xiaoyaozi.

“I’ll let you win this time!”

Su Xinghe gritted his teeth and decided to make his next move randomly, giving Zhang Jie a chance to break the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle.

Compared to his own pride, he could not bear to let his master—more than a master, a father—pass away with regret.

Just as Su Xinghe struggled inwardly, Zhang Jie made a move.

That move echoed the nearly suicidal one he had just played.

Suddenly, like the final brushstroke on a dragon painting, Zhang Jie’s black stones swiftly surrounded Su Xinghe’s white stones!

“A divine stroke! A divine stroke!”

Su Xinghe, whose great dragon had been slaughtered in an instant, muttered in disbelief.

He had never imagined that Zhang Jie’s earlier move had been preparing for the final endgame.

Who could conceive such a wild, death-defying strategy?

Su Xinghe suddenly understood why, after years of studying the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle, he still could not solve it.

Because he had been too cautious—everything he did demanded absolute safety; he dared not take risks.

But he did not regret it: the lives of his master Wuyuanzi and his disciples, the Eight Friends of Hangu,

rested on his shoulders—he dared not take risks, and could not take risks!

“Broken! Broken!”

Xue Muhua stared blankly at the solved Zhenlong Chess Puzzle.

He had not expected that giving Zhang Jie a chance would also give himself,

his master Su Xinghe, and his fellow disciples a chance.

In that moment, he grasped a truth:

“To help others is to help yourself. When you can forgive, forgive.”

“Young Zhang, I have lost.”

Su Xinghe, freed from a thousand-pound burden, spoke with relief.

“Master Xue, you—you can speak?”

Zhang Jie continued playing the role of a terrified ordinary man.

“Young Zhang…”

Xue Muhua was about to introduce Zhang Jie to the Xiaoyao Sect.

“Muhua, we’ll discuss this later.”

Su Xinghe stopped Xue Muhua.

“Go on—someone is waiting for you there.

He can tell you everything you wish to know.”

Su Xinghe pointed to the cliff wall behind the chessboard and smiled at Zhang Jie.

Zhang Jie, maintaining the bewildered demeanor of an ordinary man, approached the cliff.

“It’s real rock.”

Zhang Jie touched the cliff face, feeling its rough texture.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the Xiaoyao Sect disciples’ mastery in stone carving.

Such skill would be more than enough to build the emperor’s mausoleum!

“Young Zhang, just charge forward—it will open.”

Su Xinghe’s encouraging voice came from behind Zhang Jie.

“Hah!”

Zhang Jie gritted his teeth, sprinted a few steps, and slammed himself into the cliff wall.

“Crack! Crack~”

The cliff wall shattered instantly like crumbled tofu under Zhang Jie’s impact.

In truth, Su Xinghe and the others had used extraordinary skill

to hollow out the interior of the cliff, leaving only a thin shell of stone!

“How did such a thin stone shell fool Duan Yu,

Duan Yanqing and Kumārajīva in the original story?” Zhang Jie wondered.

This thin shell couldn’t even fool him:

He had known the inside was hollow the moment he touched it.

In the end, Zhang Jie could only attribute it to some unknown secret art of the Xiaoyao Sect.