I Have Too Many Money-Making Talents - Chapter 154

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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 – Chapter 154
Huangpu River.
A light mist rose over the riverside promenade in the early morning.
The air was damp, but the breeze that brushed across my skin was cool and invigorating.
I tightened my running shoes one more time and jogged lightly along the embankment.
The movements of Chinese practitioners doing Tai Chi drifted slowly through the hazy mist.
A strange yet exotic scene.
My breath came in quick gasps.
Newness and freshness mingled with the tremor of tension that came with facing the championship.
“I’ve never thought like this before……”
I stopped at the riverbank and murmured to myself as I caught my breath.
“Today…I really want to win.”
I had always wanted victory.
To be precise, I hated losing.
Before I gained my talent, I lost to myself and to the world countless times.
I was sick of losing again.
So I chased victory like a madman.
But today, that hunger was far sharper and clearer than usual.
This was no longer an opponent I could beat on talent alone.
A victory I had to seize entirely through my own baduk, earned by my own skill.
And beyond all that, the spoils of a world championship triumph—priceless.
“Hah…sigh. Mind control.”
I took a deep breath and, maintaining the balance between craving and greed and equanimity, slowly turned my steps back toward the hotel.
After rinsing away the sweat with a shower, I headed down to the first floor to have breakfast with Jeong Hae-sung.
As I passed through the lobby and was just entering the restaurant,
I ran into Park Sang-won, a Korea Baduk Association staff member just leaving breakfast, and O Su, a 9-dan master.
“Good morning. It looks like you’ve been out for your morning exercise?”
He greeted me first.
“Yes. Did you sleep well, master?”
“For once, I slept soundly. The hotel life felt strange after so long, but it seems I’ve grown used to it now.”
With those words, he smiled peacefully.
Today’s Game 1 of the Geumran Cup final.
It was a peaceful exchange for two people about to wage war on the baduk board.
“Then you must be playing better than usual, no?”
I smiled slightly and made light of it.
At that, a smile flickered at the corners of O Su’s eyes.
“It would be a heaven-sent blessing for me. Otherwise, I’d never be able to surpass you.”
“……You joke in a frightening way.”
We both laughed at the same time.
There was no tension or mind games.
Light banter meant to shift the atmosphere so that each of us could bring our best to the game—nothing more.
We exchanged nods and passed by each other.
After breakfast, I went back to my room and changed clothes.
The business suit I’d worn at the New Year Monochromatic Go exhibition match.
I hadn’t tied the necktie, but I’d chosen this outfit deliberately to carry forward the momentum of victory from that day.
“Let’s go.”
After a final adjustment of my appearance, I headed toward the first-floor lobby.
The moment the elevator doors opened, flashes erupted and journalists swarmed in.
‘……More than I expected.’
Yesterday, Chinese media outlets had competed with each other to feature the elimination of Zhang Weitian extensively.
Chinese fans had criticized the lack of international competitiveness among their own professional players, lamenting how they fell to Korea each time.
Yet they all agreed they would watch this final match to the very end.
A championship where baduk’s past and new history would clash.
Even though the Geumran Cup had become a stage for Korean players alone, Chinese baduk fans still wanted to witness and feel each move firsthand.
And that longing manifested in the footsteps of countless journalists gathered to record a match for the ages.
‘Whatever else, baduk brings out people’s sincerity.’
I ignored the journalists following behind and slowly made my way along the velvet rope toward the match hall.
Upon spotting me, Park Sang-won approached with a bright expression.
“You’ve arrived, Kuksoo! Master O just finished his interview and went in. Would a press conference be possible right away?”
“Yes. Please keep it brief.”
Park Sang-won nodded as if it were obvious.
“Of course. I’ll give the moderator a heads-up beforehand.”
Following his guidance, I climbed onto the photo wall.
The already fervent atmosphere grew hotter still with my appearance.
Camera flashes erupted as the moderator posed their question.
“O Su said yesterday that he decided to return to professional baduk specifically to play against Kim In-ha. How are you feeling right now?”
I brought the microphone to my lips.
“At first, when I heard those words, it didn’t feel real. Then as time passed, it became overwhelming—and heavy too. I began to feel the weight of it all. I worried about disappointing people.”
“So you’re still worried now?”
“No. Now I’m happy.”
The faint smile at the corner of my mouth deepened.
“The chance to play against the greatest professional in history and possibly win—that doesn’t come often.”
I paused and looked directly into the eyes of the Chinese journalists, one by one.
“I will take home the championship.”
A statement brimming with confidence—bold enough to seem almost reckless.
But that was me.
The type who transforms even my own burden into fuel for victory.
The stimulated Chinese journalists raised their hands, but I handed the microphone back to Park Sang-won and declined all further questions.
With flashes continuing, I descended from the photo wall and headed straight for the tournament hall.
The space where I’d played baduk these past few days.
But when the air itself felt different, my eyes found O Su standing motionless in the center.
I approached him and offered my greeting.
“Please take care of me today.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
As we released our grip, he laughed quietly.
“Moments like this remind me I’m still childlike, in some ways.”
“Pardon?”
“I was so eager to play that I couldn’t even wait—I came here with no patience at all.”
There was more sincerity than jest in his tone.
I could feel an earnest, almost unbecoming eagerness about our match—the kind of anticipation that showed just how much he’d waited for this.
“I feel exactly the same.”
As we shared a smile, a Geumran Cup staff member gestured to us.
Without hesitation, we both took our seats at the broadcast Go Board positioned on the platform, ready for the championship match.
I withdrew the thermos and poured hot water into a tea cup.
As warmth spread through me, my tension eased slightly.
Shortly after, the camera lights came on and the on-air signal illuminated.
We moved the Go Stone Containers, which had been neatly arranged on the board, to the right.
‘White.’
Bow.
After exchanging courtesies, O Su reached into the container first and withdrew a stone.
Tap.
The first move: Star Point.
I responded with a Star Point in the upper left.
The next move.
Tap.
Again a Star Point, but not the perfect symmetry I’d seen in our previous games.
‘Diagonal Opening.’
Also known as the crossed Star Point opening.
A flexible arrangement that combines rapid development with excellent board balance, marrying stability and variation while building influence across the whole position.
‘His first opening since returning to professional play.’
In other words, this was the strategy he’d prepared specifically to face me.
I answered with a Diagonal Star Point of my own.
If his opening was studied, I too would need flexible adaptation and careful risk management.
‘Next could be solidification—or a 3-3 Invasion?’
Tap.
My prediction was wrong.
Black played at the right Star Point instead.
I paused to consider, then extended diagonally to settle the shape into basic Joseki form.
Black immediately invaded the 3-3 point in the upper left.
‘Respond with actual territory in mind.’
White received with a Two-Point Head Solidification, securing the corner territory while allowing Black some thickness in the lower region.
Black solidified the lower-left corner with an eye, consolidating his territory.
I, too, invaded the star point in the upper right to restore balance.
It was a decision to maximize White’s two-stone advantage, given the komi.
‘Now I need to create complications.’
While I was ahead on territory, the board state showed me falling behind in thickness.
To prepare for the middlegame battle, I had to create a crack now.
Click.
A splitting play along the bottom edge.
It was a move that prevented Black’s eye from solidifying further while pressuring his stones in the lower-right corner.
But then.
Click.
“……!”
Black advanced without a single second of hesitation.
As if all these variations had already been researched, he placed his stone without deliberation.
My intuition warned me that a single mistaken move here would be irreversible.
‘Play it like garlic.’
Heavier than a single-space gap in the center, but a move that could definitively split Black’s stones along the bottom.
Then, once again, Black played a two-space move in the center.
The board state seemed to reach a momentary truce, so I attempted to suppress Black’s growth by overextending toward the lower-left corner.
Then.
Click.
A straight line through the center—played without hesitation or deliberation.
‘A thick move.’
On the surface, it looked like a simple reinforcement.
But when I delved deeper into Move Reading, the position revealed itself to be far beyond that simple explanation.
‘……This is a Perfect Move.’
A Blue Spot.
The single optimal move—the kind that even AI would recognize as having the highest winning probability.
And now, the most perfect of those optimal moves lay directly before my eyes.
‘It doesn’t waver.’
My breath felt caught deep in my chest, suffocating.
That cruelest despair—the kind humans feel when playing against AI.
Even when a move seemed somehow heavy, its timing off……when you look back, it sits in a place that feels utterly inevitable.
That eerie perfection was flowing from the very fingertips of O Su now.
And this was merely the opening act.
Click.
The seventh line on the top edge.
A move to convert influence into actual territory.
It appeared distant, excessive even,
‘but it’s exquisite.’
As I traced through the variations, admiration spilled from my lips—almost like a gasp.
He seized that very point without hesitation, the one even AI would rarely choose.
And he did it naturally, economically.
‘……Don’t panic. Just narrow it down with my own Baduk.’
I forced myself to breathe steadily.
My game hadn’t truly begun yet.
Instinct.
Intuition.
And the Destabilization that followed.
Without hesitation, I threw myself into his sphere of influence.
I tried to wedge into Black’s wall and balance the position with territory, but O Su’s stones were always one tempo ahead.
Click.
The critical key point, subtly squeezing the lifeblood of my three orphaned stones left in Black’s territory on the top edge.
I swallowed without realizing it.
Even when we played Monochromatic Go, I hadn’t sensed a gap.
But now, it was on an entirely different scale.
‘……Even the rhythm of combat overwhelms me?’
The Perfect Move.
The most correct and efficient play.
A move that neutralized the Destabilization and seized advantage with accuracy rivaling AI itself.
His heart hammered irregularly, his fingertips tingling.
‘Don’t rush. There’s still more to use.’
He surveyed the entire board.
Black was thick, yes, but he believed it wasn’t impossible to create variables.
Or rather, he chose to believe it.
Click.
Black, as if mocking that belief, played a stone in a move beyond all convention.
Empty Triangle Attachment.
Ugly in its distorted form, yet it struck directly at the eye-space of his floating group, erasing it in one stroke.
He bit his lip and prepared another Destabilization.
‘…… Abandon the floating group. Erase the thickness and use the dead stones to take only profit—that’s enough.’
But then.
Click.
A response that came in less than ten seconds.
Two-Point Head Solidification.
“……!”
The moment that stone was placed, shock crashed over him like a held breath released.
A sharp form that seemed to tear through any complete shape.
It neutralized his Destabilization while simultaneously shoring up its weakness—a perfect key point.
He didn’t need to check AI to know.
Blue Spot.
The position with the highest expected winning percentage among them all.
‘Was it only this strong……?’
His mouth went dry, cold sweat trailing down his spine.
Like being dragged into the depths where even breathing suffocates.
A wall of absolute supremacy he had never felt in even the world’s highest-level matches.
Before he knew it, he lifted his gaze to O Su.
An expressionless face so serene it contained no human emotion whatsoever.
‘…… Is this truly baduk that a human can play?’
Beyond shock, admiration welled up from the depths of his chest.
Now he understood why O Su was called “living history,” why he was revered as a Divine Calculator who transcended humanity itself.
That overwhelming reality was now about to swallow him whole.

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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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