I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 102

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Too Much Talent That Pays 102
Tap.
Stones cross the board without pause.
Corners and edges, pincer attacks and retreats.
Territory and influence dancing between the third and fourth lines.
Yet looking deeper, the opening remained decidedly in O Su’s favor.
‘There’s nowhere to wedge in.’
I’ve never neglected opening study.
I’ve invested time in AI analysis, kept up steady pattern research.
The opening was my only weakness, after all.
‘……More precisely, I was ignorant of AI openings.’
Still, I’ve compensated somewhat by now.
Against anyone but the absolute elite, I often gained the advantage in the early stages.
But O Su’s opening play still surpassed me.
Eyes that see hidden passages first.
Precision like following footprints already traced in sand.
Living intuition.
What’s more remarkable is that this intuition was sharper than any active professional at the top level.
Even when I pressed, the initiative rarely shifted my way.
Whether I connected, reinforced, or probed at the entrance or the corner, there were no gaps.
A perfectly balanced position.
Each stone found its place without a note of discord.
‘……It’s not easy.’
The opening itself resembled a completed painting.
The process of bringing it to life was smooth and flowing.
A robust structure that made everything you touched seem to slip through.
Within that unfolding shape, I had to make a decision.
‘I need to respond quickly.’
I drew a stone from the container and gripped it.
A white stone.
I placed another white stone on the nineteen-by-nineteen board.
Tap.
A move to break O Su’s momentum.
In other words, a desperate gambit to force the initiative my way.
Precisely: a move that exposed my weakness in exchange for seizing something larger.
And O Su did not miss that opening.
Tap.
A cutting move.
Agile and accurate.
It wasn’t merely an attack.
He invites battle while exploiting my weakness.
At the same time, he’s prepared to balance territory and influence at any moment.
It was one of the outcomes I’d anticipated, but facing it now, my chest tightened.
‘The battle……starts now.’
A breakthrough is inevitable.
Combat is inevitable.
A moment where calculation, intuition, and instinct weave together.
The middle game.
A single mistake.
Even one misplaced stone cannot happen.
Because that would be defeat.

* * *
The <Park Ji-man’s Baduk In> channel.
Special Match, Monochromatic Go.
A special live broadcast: O Su 9-dan versus Kim In-ha 9-dan.
Viewer numbers simply exploded.
They far exceeded the previous record of 30,000 concurrent viewers from last year’s Kuksoo Championship finals.
By real-time count, we were now pushing 40,000.
-Master, this is insane today. Baduk TV just crossed 90,000.
—Instructor Jang Yu-na’s stream is approaching ten thousand viewers.
—Wow, Instructor O Su really is something special.
—Hello, I’m new here. I’m thinking about learning Baduk, but where should I study?
—Everyone…… things are even more chaotic on the Chinese side. Over two hundred thousand viewers right now.
—Why do they care so much about some foreign country’s exhibition match? Haha
Given the older demographic of Baduk broadcasts, chat volume was typically sparse.
But not today.
The channel was ablaze.
‘I never expected it would be like this……’
Park Ji-man couldn’t hide his bewildered expression.
Monochromatic Go.
The appearance of retired legend O Su, 9-dan.
His opponent: the current center of attention, Kim In-ha, Kuksoo.
All the elements for success were there, but he hadn’t anticipated a response of this magnitude.
‘The Baduk world really was stagnating, then.’
The Baduk population continued to decline even as they spoke.
A heavy image.
Too high a barrier to entry.
An extreme slide into the margins.
There had been a brief revival when O Su, 9-dan became the first human to defeat AI.
But the image of being conquered by AI had devalued even the essence of Baduk itself.
The perception hardened that professional Go players belonged to a declining profession, and public interest sank deeper still.
In that sense, Monochromatic Go was a fascinating event.
Literally a show for the viewers.
‘…… The Korea Baduk Association actually did good work for once.’
It was like timely medicine for the ailments the current Baduk world carried, a remedy that could restore popular appeal.
Especially with Kim In-ha, 9-dan, the box office darling of the Baduk world.
A rare figure in Asian Baduk circles, where humility alone was enforced as virtue.
Like a foreign sports star, he spoke openly about himself without hesitation.
Kim In-ha and the legendary O Su, 9-dan.
Pitting these two against each other in Monochromatic Go was an inspired choice that captured intrigue, buzz, and ratings all at once.
“Everyone, the left side of your screen shows the actual game board. The right side has colors added to help viewers distinguish the stones.”
The left screen was entirely filled with white stones.
The right screen had colors applied to look like black and white stones for commentary purposes.
“Truth is, once you reach O Su’s level or In-ha’s level, the color of the Go stones doesn’t mean much. It might seem impressive to laypeople, but professional players think at a completely different level.”
Park Ji-man gazed at the screen with a faint smile.
“We remember the flow of moves and their shapes, the context. The stone colors are really just consideration for the viewers’ understanding. Well…… once we get past two hundred moves…… even I start to get a little confused.”
Just then, a question appeared in the chat.
—So is it true that becoming a professional Go player is harder than getting into Seoul University?
Clearly a question from a newly arrived viewer.
Normally he would have let it pass, but today was different.
Park Ji-man paused to think, then laughed.
“That’s a tough question. If I had to do it all over…… I wouldn’t think twice. I’d choose Seoul University. Haha. Even if I went back to those days, I wouldn’t have confidence I could win the championship.”
There was much meaning packed into those words.
Becoming a professional.
Surviving as a professional.
And reaching the very top among professionals.
Without speaking it all out loud, he explained it kindly enough that anyone could sense it.
Tap.
O Su’s stone appeared on the board.
“…… But really, O Su plays beautifully. Is he really a player with a gap in his career?”
High praise followed.
The viewers seemed to agree.
Up to this point in the opening, every move O Su had played was a Blue Spot.
His opening had always been strong in the past, but now it was even more refined.
“That’s what makes it more interesting, I think. The two players’ styles are completely opposite.”
O Su, 9-dan built thick influence and waited patiently.
A stable style marked by strong opening strategy, precise endgame, and solid counting.
Kim In-ha, by contrast, was aggressive, probing, and cutting.
A style centered on combat and breakthrough.
‘That’s a match worth watching.’
Even before his role as commentator, he felt the curiosity of a Baduk player drawn to this contest.
Tap.
As they entered the mid-game, Kim In-ha played an abrupt move.
Exposing a weakness, seizing the larger territory.
Materially substantial, but carrying considerable risk.
“What? In-ha, you’re backing off here? Why aren’t you taking this? Is this even right?”
Park Ji-man, flustered, quickly turned to the Deepstone analysis.
As expected—a reckless overreach.
Kim In-ha’s winning probability plummeted to the 40-percent range.
His expression darkened.
“No, why play a Sacrifice Move so early? The AI says you absolutely have to continue. You’re forcing it from the very start…… Wait, In-ha, surely you’re not——”
Tap.
O Su at 9-dan didn’t miss it.
He cut through that weakness with precision.
There was no reason to avoid combat within his own sphere of Influence.
And so Kim In-ha continued without hesitation.
Swift and exact, like a calculated sequence.
At that unhesitating display, the instructor paused again to verify.
“…… You’re giving up the large territory and surviving inside it?”
Tap.
Thus, stone by stone, Kim In-ha’s intention became clear.
Two stones he appeared to have abandoned began to move.
Not escaping outside the sphere of Influence, but driving straight into the thick territory O Su had built up.
“In-ha. You’re really saying this becomes a Breakthrough?”
Park Ji-man couldn’t conceal his astonishment.
O Su at 9-dan considered his response carefully.
One wrong move and he could lose all his Actual Territory and Influence both.
After deliberate thought, he played his answer.
Tap.
The strongest move.
Sealing the perimeter like an iron wall.
The intention to grant no opening for survival.
And then In-ha turned toward the center.
Yielding some thickness and Actual Territory, he moved with fluid grace, leaning on his opponent’s stones to slip free.
Park Ji-man let out a cry of admiration.
“…… I, I’m lost for words. Viewers, Kim In-ha’s winning probability has recovered to 49 percent.”
The most Kim In-ha of all Baduk.
The greatest Breakthrough through the direst flow.
That took courage, intuition, and skill woven together as one.
“We’ve never seen a player like this before. He simply…… savors the risk.”
And yet.
O Su at 9-dan did not falter before Kim In-ha’s style.
Rather, he responded with the strongest moves, reading the flow of In-ha’s attack on his Influence and countering with precision.
“No, O Su at 9-dan…… he’s inhuman. That’s a move straight from the AI. Finding it with human intuition? Does that even make sense?”
Park Ji-man exclaimed in wonder once more before his monitor.
Taking Actual Territory, preserving thickness, solidifying the center.
Not mere reaction Baduk.
Building advantage, layer by layer.
Achieving balance without the slightest discord in every sector.
A Baduk that never surrenders the initiative once seized.
O Su at 9-dan held both offense and defense, Actual Territory and Influence, in both hands at once—perfect tempo control.
“In-ha’s winning probability has dropped again to 45.8 percent. Wow, this is truly an artistic counter-response.”
At this point, Park Ji-man could not tear his eyes away.
He was captivated not by the sequence in the game record alone, but by the entire world the two of them were painting together.
“You know, this might be—”
He swallowed hard and spoke.
Baduk is not a game one plays alone.
It is an art created by two together.
No matter how brilliantly one player moves, if the other cannot follow, no art is born.
Park Ji-man added a trembling final thought.
“……Perhaps we are witnessing a masterpiece game that will endure in Baduk history itself.”

* * *
‘Formidable.’
Was this what it meant to be flawless and strong—this kind of Baduk?
Lu Chuiyuan, 9-dan.
Kim Eun-woo, 9-dan.
Ci Hao, 9-dan.
Until now, none of them had been easy opponents.
But O Su, 9-dan, radiated a solidity altogether different from theirs.
A firmness like Mount Tai, immovable and eternal.
And there was no emotion in his play.
His Move Reading and Board State assessment surpassed mine.
Responses that bordered on artificial intelligence.
I lifted my head quietly and studied O Su, 9-dan.
Expressionless.
‘……So that’s why he’s called the Stone Buddha.’
Throughout the entire game, his expression barely changed.
As if to say: matches are not decided by emotion.
His bearing now was exactly that.
Playing against a living AI.
‘I have to elevate the game.’
Playing ordinarily won’t work.
Against an opponent who won’t be shaken, trying to force instability only increases my own risk.
A subtle Key Point?
A Brilliant Move?
Those are merely a last resort.
The need to rely on Brilliant Moves already means the Baduk is in my disfavor.
‘I have to change how I think itself.’
I shifted toward an entirely different approach.
Not tactics—strategy.
I perceived this small cosmos unfolded across nineteen lines in its entirety.
I dissolved the distinction between dead stones and living stones.
I erased the boundary between Key Stones and Floating Stones.
Right now, in a way O Su, 9-dan, could never have imagined.
Baduk that only humans could play.
A paradigm shift.
Creative thinking.
‘……I will sacrifice the Key Stone.’
That stone was no mere sacrifice.
It was the only means to break his rhythm, to disturb his Board State assessment.
It was the sole trap I could lay.
And.
A snare of my own design.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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