The richest man started taking advantage of loopholes after joining Alibaba.

Four Seasons Hotel, Seoul.

4:20 PM.

Lee Sedol's hand hovered above the Go board, frozen in place.

The hand was trembling, its knuckles white and bloodless, maintaining a posture that seemed about to fall but couldn't.

The two chess pieces were picked up.

It was placed in the bottom right corner.

"Smack."

The sound was very soft, but to 60 million people around the world, it shattered their eardrums.

To resign and admit defeat.

Beijing, CCTV Studio One.

Dead silence.

There were no gasps, no comments.

The only noise is the low-frequency buzzing sound of current flowing through the device.

On the screen in the control room, the man who represents the highest wisdom of human Go covered his face with his hands, his shoulders slumped.

Dr. Huang, sitting opposite him, remained expressionless as he began tidying up the chess pieces. The black and white pieces fell into the chess box with a crisp clinking sound.

Each sound struck the hearts of the guests present.

"Lost...lost?"

A grating sound rolled through the host's throat.

He stared at the teleprompter, but couldn't read the words on it.

The teacup in Old Nie's hand clattered on the mahogany table.

The tea spilled out, scalding the tiger's mouth red.

He didn't move, he didn't even glance at his own hands.

"That doesn't make sense."

Old Master Nie stared at the large dragon that had been strangled on the chessboard, and the muscles at the corner of his eye twitched.

"This is the endgame. That last 'bump' move was indeed a loss, but not fatal. Why concede? We're not in a desperate situation yet."

The public intellectual Gao Song next to him suddenly slammed his folding fan shut.

"Snapped!"

The sound was loud, breaking the ice in the studio.

His originally pale face flushed with a sickly red.

"Mental state! He's absolutely mentally broken!"

Gao Song grabbed the microphone, his voice shrill, eager to fill the terrible silence.

"Everyone! Don't panic! This is just the first game! This is Lee Sedol 9-dan's strategy! He's testing the waters!"

He pointed at the screen, his finger almost touching the display.

"When masters clash, the first game is always a test. Lee Sedol 9-dan used a whole game to test the limits of the machine's algorithm—that's tactical! That's human cunning! What do you mean a machine is invincible? I think it's that the machine doesn't know how to adapt and was fooled by Lee Sedol 9-dan's 'show of weakness'!"

The air pressure in the studio eased.

The production team, the live audience, and even those watching on television all breathed a sigh of relief.

Correct.

That's Lee Sedol.

A legend of a ruling era.

How could it possibly lose to a bunch of code?

It's definitely a test.

"President Lin."

Gao Song turned his head, the fear in his eyes still lingering, but a mocking smile had already appeared on his lips.

"You're lucky to have saved your 100 million for now. But luck is a one-time thing. In the next game, once Lee Sedol 9-dan figures out your strategy, the machine will crash."

The camera cuts to Lin Che.

All eyes were on them.

Everyone was waiting to see his relieved expression.

There is no room for luck.

Lin Che sat under the spotlight, his dark suit absorbing all the light around him.

"A test?"

Lin Che unscrewed the mineral water bottle.

The sound of the plastic cap being unscrewed, click.

"Would it kill you to admit your opponent is strong?"

He took a sip of water, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"In the 102nd move of the middle game, AlphaGo cut off the large black group. That was not a probe, that was a massacre."

Lin Che put down the water bottle and tapped the bottom of it on the table.

"Humans always have excuses: underestimating the enemy, being in poor condition, not sleeping well, not eating enough lunch, but in the face of 1200 CPUs and 176 GPUs, all of these are nonsense."

"Machines don't eat, they don't sleep, and they don't underestimate their enemies."

"It won because it calculated deeply and accurately."

Old Master Nie's face darkened.

As a professional chess player, he could understand that game.

Black was suppressed from beginning to end; the suffocating control was something that could not be explained by mere "probing".

But he is a titan. We cannot kneel before him.

"President Lin," Old Master Nie said in a low voice, "Go is not just about calculation, it's about the big picture, it's about the 'way'. No matter how strong the computer is in local areas, it doesn't understand the principles of Go. A 4-1 prediction is too arrogant."

Gao Song immediately added, "Exactly! Mr. Lin is a businessman who thinks winning one game means winning the whole world. Go is about striking after the opponent has made their move. You can still withdraw the bet and apologize now."

Apologize?

Lin Che looked at the two people.

The studio lights made my skin feel dry.

Lin Che reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

The sound of fabric rubbing together, a soft rustling.

Everyone's pupils contracted.

Yesterday, he pulled out a check for 100 million from here.

What's today?

An envelope.

The envelope was an old-fashioned, thick kraft paper envelope, sealed with a red wax seal.

"Smack."

The envelope was slammed onto the table. The sound was dull, like a brick hitting the ground.

"Since you're saying the first game was a fluke."

Lin Che's fingers rested on the envelope, his nails neatly trimmed and sharp.

"Let's do something more exciting then."

The host was stunned: "Mr. Lin, this is...?"

The camera zooms in. The rough texture of kraft paper fills the screen.

"The results of last night's calculations by the Micro-Light Brain."

Lin Che's voice was flat, yet it brushed against everyone's eardrums.

"Last night, our AI system reviewed AlphaGo's logic and predicted the second game tomorrow."

"This contains a plan for tomorrow."

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Master Nie's eyes widened: "What did you say? Predict a specific move? Impossible! There are billions of possible moves in a game of chess. How could you possibly know where we'll be tomorrow?"

Gao Song burst out laughing, his fan trembling uncontrollably: "President Lin, have you switched careers to become a charlatan? Predicting the future? Is this a science fiction movie?"

"Whether it's a sci-fi movie or not, we'll find out tomorrow."

Lin Che took out a black marker.

He wrote a line on the surface of the envelope.

The pen tip scraped across the paper, making a piercing squeaking sound.

2016.03.10

"I not only predict it will win."

Lin Che held the envelope upright, facing the camera.

"I even predicted how it would win."

"This is the divine move that AlphaGo will make tomorrow."

"If this move occurs, please keep quiet and acknowledge that human experience is worthless in the face of logic."

Lin Che pushed the envelope onto the display shelf.

That spot used to hold the sponsor's drinks. Now, it holds that brownish-yellow letter.

Like a silent declaration of war.

"Mr. Lin, are you serious?" The host felt a cold sweat running down his back.

This is insane.

Predicting the next move in the future? That's harder than winning the lottery jackpot.

"I don't fake it."

Lin Che stood up and straightened his cuffs.

A cool breeze blew in through the crack in the studio door.

"Open the letter in public at this time tomorrow."

"Hopefully, by then, your knees will still be as hard as your mouths."

Lin Che turned around.

Leather shoes stepped onto the shiny black floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The rhythm was precise, without any hesitation.

Behind him, Gao Song stared at the envelope, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

He wanted to mock and curse.

But looking at that back view, it felt like a wet cotton ball was stuck in my throat.

The envelope stood there.

Like a magnet, it drew everyone's attention.

That's just a charlatan's trick.

Or is it a judgment from the future?