"Did he actually win?" After seeing the latest game record, someone discovered that Wenren Sheng had won by two points.
"This is the Thirty-Three Heavens! Even our strongest AI can only win up to the twentieth level, yet he actually won?" An Earth player found it utterly unbelievable.
On Earth, weiqi AI had now become a class of its own. Once upon a time, people had thought weiqi was the pinnacle of intellectual games that AI could never conquer, but in the end, they still failed to hold the line.
There were quite a few top players like Luo Qi who had become lost ever since. Most people had simply accepted it, treating AI like airplanes and cars—something human speed could never catch up to.
"This guy definitely isn't an ordinary person. He's either a descendant of immortals from this world, or a Supernatural Being from ours," another player said.
"Yeah, I just remembered. There's a type of Supernatural Being called a prophet. If people like them played weiqi and could predict their opponent's moves, wouldn't that let them know both themselves and their enemy, remaining undefeated in every battle?"
"Mm, that makes sense. Looks like this one is the same."
After one game, they would rest for a day before playing again on the third day.
Wenren Sheng stepped away from the board.
Just then, someone suddenly rushed up from downstairs and charged straight at him:
"Butcher! You just killed twenty-one people, do you know that?" A woman in ancient dress shouted at him indignantly. "Hey, old lady, what nonsense are you spouting? They all volunteered to take the stage. Besides, dead sooner or later, they'd still be dead. They died for their ideals—that's a kind of happiness too." Little Illusion stepped forward to back him up.
Wenren Sheng