Chapter Seventeen: The Game of Chess (Part Three)

The morning sun chased away the nocturnal chill, yet the weather in the Miao Territory rarely offered any sense of warmth, especially in the winter.

Despite the bitter cold, the area outside the Prince Beijing Mansion remained densely packed with people, even though the common folk were chilled to the bone.

Yet everyone strained their necks in eager anticipation, not daring to utter the slightest sound.

The gates of the Prince Beijing Mansion swung open. Prince Beijing emerged accompanied by Qianxue, Canglang, and his guards, walking up to the table.

Wenhuang and Luobi also stepped forward, nodding slightly to Qianxue Guming as a form of greeting.

Jingri Guming and Wenhuang sat facing each other. With only a single match scheduled for the day, the two naturally sat down to play chess.

Clad in white and blue respectively, they gazed at each other across the board. Though the chessboard lay between them, their minds were not focused on the board, but upon each other.

"I have long wished to request a match for instruction from Prince Jing, but Your Highness always declined. Today, my wish is finally fulfilled!"

Wenhuang picked up a white stone and played it at the three-three point on the flank.

Jingri Guming likewise picked up a black stone and placed it on his own three-three point.

"Then you should thank your opponent for tomorrow."

"Oh? My opponent tomorrow? I suppose I should also thank Your Highness for letting me make the first move!"

Wenhuang placed his stone unhurriedly. Though his words expressed gratitude to Jingri Guming, they carried a hint of provocation.

Jingri Guming placed his stone in turn and replied:

"If you manage to defeat me, then that person will be your opponent tomorrow!"

"As an elder, yielding the first move to a junior is only proper."

As the two men placed their stones, they conversed, and before long, nearly half the board was filled.

However, by this point, Wenhuang's advantage of the first move had completely vanished. Wenhuang now had to pause and ponder before every move, whereas Jingri Guming played his stone immediately after Wenhuang's.

With the falling stones, the board gradually filled up as the two sides locked in a mutual slaughter.

Yet the fiercer the battle grew, the wider Jingri Guming's advantage became. Even when Wenhuang occasionally experienced a flash of inspiration, playing a move that seemed to hold a glimmer of turning the tide—

The very moment Prince Beijing placed his next stone, the hope brought by that previous move vanished like a dream or a bubble.

The stones multiplied rapidly, and the sweat on Wenhuang's brow increased as well. Yet there was not a trace of dejection in Wenhuang's eyes; beneath his calm demeanor lay a faint smile, as if he were the one holding the upper hand.

Only, no one noticed the flame hidden deep within Wenhuang's eyes.

Compared to Wenhuang, Jingri Guming appeared far more composed, laying down stone after stone, extinguishing Wenhuang's very last breath of vitality.

Wenhuang's flashes of inspiration were akin to comprehending a martial art technique mid-battle, truly startling Jingri Guming with their brilliance. However, the gap in absolute strength could ultimately not be bridged by a mere flash of insight.

After Wenhuang placed his one hundred and fifty-second stone, Jingri Guming responded with his own one hundred and fifty-second stone.

"I have lost."

Wenhuang looked up at Jingri Guming. Beneath his candid gaze lay an indomitable fighting spirit.

"Prince Jing, superb mastery of Go!"

"Naturally, it is superb!"

At this point, modesty from Jingri Guming would have been an insult to his opponent.

"Would Wenhuang be willing to enter the mansion as a guest?"

"Wenzai, there is still a match tomorrow; surely you wouldn't want to miss it!"

Qianxue Guming's meaning was crystal clear: if Wenhuang did not rest inside the Prince Beijing Mansion, then Qianxue didn't want to see him tomorrow.

"Since my good friend extends the invitation, how could Wenhuang dare refuse? I shall impose upon Prince Jing!"

"Please!"

Jingri Guming led the group back toward the mansion. Before leaving, he glanced toward an empty clearing in the distance.

"Cangli, Prince Beijing has discovered you!"

"Hmm."

...

The next day, having spent the night sharpening their wits and resting, Jingri Guming rose early.

The weather was bright and clear, but the chill was intense. Wenhuang, Luobi, Qianxue, and Canglang had already finished their morning routines.

To become a top-tier martial artist required more than mere coincidence; talent was crucial, but perseverance was equally indispensable.

After breaking their fast, Jingri Guming looked at the others and said:

"Let us go!"

Stepping outside the estate, a Go board stood erect upon the open ground.

Not a single spectator of Go had come today—this was the tacit understanding between Jingri Guming and Mo Cangli, excluding only the few people each had brought along.

The people brought by Jingri Guming were naturally Qianxue Guming, Canglang, Wenhuang, and Luobi.

On the other side, shrouded in thick mist, stood Mo Cangli accompanied by the Mianshi Physician.

"Uncle, be careful!"

Qianxue stepped in front of Jingri Guming, his hand already resting on the hilt of his saber.

"It is fine!"

Jingri Guming pushed Qianxue aside and walked up to the Go board.

A voice drifted from within the mist: "Today, will you still yield the first move?"

Enshrouded in mist, the scene carried a sense of mystery, leaving everyone wondering who was hidden within the fog.

Who possessed the qualifications to make the current Prince Beijing treat them with such caution, leaving them for the very last?

"Ha! Do you require me to yield the first move? Then what harm is there in me letting you have it?"

The conflict between the two sides had already begun the moment Mo Cangli's voice rang out.

Did Mo Cangli need someone to yield the first move? Naturally, he did not; Mo Cangli merely wished to make Jingri Guming underestimate him.

Jingri Guming naturally saw through his opponent's intention, yet his counter-question laid everything bare.

His final sentence served as a counterattack against Mo Cangli. What supreme confidence, what unbridled arrogance—it was enough to ignite Mo Cangli's fury.

No one could accept another's contempt in the very field where they held the utmost pride.

"Then, I shall accept without modesty!"

The voice was exceptionally calm. As Mo Cangli's words fell, a white stone dropped onto the Go board.

"Please!"

"Please!"

Jingri Guming also placed a stone. The two players' stones did not intersect; instead, each staked out a corner of the board.

Neither man was talkative, nor did they wish to expose each other before the onlookers in a manner that would lead to mutual destruction.

Amidst the silence, only the sound of falling stones remained. The pieces descended rapidly, resembling unceasing, fine spring rain.

Within moments, nearly a hundred stones had been played, and the board was densely dotted with pieces, as if the two men did not need to think at all.

Aside from Wenhuang, who could barely keep up, the others watching the game could hardly comprehend the strategic intent behind the layouts.

After over a hundred stones, the two sides finally intersected, and a mutual exchange of offense and defense commenced between them.

The stones fell swiftly, thrusting back and forth as though how the opponent would move and how one should defend had long since been engraved in both of their hearts.

Several dozen more stones were played. The vacant spaces on the board gradually dwindled, and the shrinking areas for retreat and defense forced the two into a stage of ruthless slaughter.

The pace of their stone placement finally slowed. Across the stark black-and-white board, their pieces interlocked like jagged canine teeth—you within me, and I within you.

Every stone seemed scattered in disorder, yet each was intimately connected to the rest.

With a single stone from Mo Cangli, the situation instantly transformed into a death trap. In the eyes of the onlookers, the black dragon was in perilous jeopardy.

Yet when Jingri Guming placed his stone, sacrificing a swathe of his own pieces, a seemingly dead position was instantly revived, turning the tables to launch a counter-slaughter against the white dragon.

Such a development was beyond the imagination of any observer. To lay out a strategy through the deliberate sacrifice of one's own pieces, trading destruction for victory—a sharp gleam flashed in the eyes of the onlookers.