Chapter 135: Adrenaline Ascension (Part 2)

Location: Miaofeng Mountain winding road, Time: 8:29, countdown initiated—

【10…9…8……4…3…2…1—】

As 8:30 arrived, viewers in front of screens instantly held their breath, eyes locked on Qin Yun in the footage.

Qin Yun said nothing; all that needed saying had been said. He pushed off with his feet, the downhill board shooting forward like an arrow released from a bow, hurtling down the steep slope, the howling wind instantly drowning his ears.

His gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, his mind rapidly unfolding the map. Like in a game, at this moment he knew precisely his position on the entire map.

At the instant he surged forward, fans in front of screens erupted in screams and cheers.

Some fans near the summit even pulled out their phones to film, unwilling to miss this precious moment.

The Five Ha crew watched the footage on their phones, faces filled with awe.

"Damn, this speed is way too fast." Chen He looked incredulous.

"Fucking hell, starting off this fast—can't imagine what 140 would feel like." Deng Chao felt his hands trembling.

"Unimaginable." Lu Han squinted, eyes unwilling to look away, "If he pulls this off, it'll be insane."

But for Qin Yun, the initial stretch was actually gentle. He maintained firm control of the downhill board, gradually increasing speed—reaching over ten meters per second. Trees beside the road blurred backward, the ground beneath his feet vibrating faintly.

He clearly felt the wind passing through his fingertips—the freedom, the adrenaline, the surge of excitement—completely dispelling all his doubts.

"Friends, this stretch is still gentle—we need to accelerate." Qin Yun shouted, his voice carrying a hint of exhilaration.

"Holy shit, this is still called gentle? Then there's no such thing as a downhill."

"666, Master Qin is so cool, my heart's pounding."

"So intense—when the camera cut in that instant, I felt like a gust of wind slapped my face."

"Looking forward to the steep slopes—I've already got my nitroglycerin ready."

"Feng Liu Jie sent the streamer ten Carnival gifts—Master Qin is awesome."

"Bo Lang Ge sent the streamer ten Carnival gifts—Master Qin is mighty."

"Chen He sent the streamer ten Carnival gifts—Master Qin is taking off."

"Deng Chao sent…"

A string of gifts flooded the screen, drowning out ordinary netizens' comments.

Qin Yun, of course, couldn't see any of this. For this livestream, he had to give everything—total focus. Aside from occasionally uttering a few words, he had no energy left for anything else.

Soon, a curve appeared ahead.

Qin Yun suddenly exploded with leg power, channeling all his explosive force into his soles, lowering his entire body sharply, leaning so low he was nearly parallel to the ground.

'Swoosh—!'

Without slowing, Qin Yun passed through the curve directly—this sight left livestream viewers stunned.

"Holy shit, he actually pulled that off!"

"Master Qin is insane—I got goosebumps."

Of course, the comment section wasn't all admiration and praise—some haters couldn't stand him.

"Acting tough—wait till you flip and die, see what you do then."

"Hahaha, I bet this streamer's gonna crash this time."

"Can't stand this 'the world's mine and I'm second' attitude—hope you crash and die."

But these comments were quickly drowned out by fans' replies, not even stirring a ripple.

At this moment, the speedometer in the bottom-right corner of the livestream showed over eighty kilometers per hour—already the maximum speed allowed for cars in urban areas.

Qin Yun was lost in the thrill of speed; the cheers and wind behind him vanished from his mind. His eyes saw only the road ahead. He felt every vibration of the board, every subtle rise and fall of the surface, every shift of his center of gravity, every precise push from his fingertips—perfectly controlled.

Then, suddenly, danger appeared: several shards of rock had scattered across the road ahead. If he rolled over them at this speed, he'd inevitably lose control and skid sideways. If he lost control, crashing into the guardrail at this velocity—there was no need to guess the outcome.

This moment was instantly captured by the drone, the lens zooming in sharply.

Viewers in the livestream felt their hearts tighten.

"Rocks! Shit, how the hell did rocks get there?"

"We're done—if he loses control now, he's dead."

"Damn, Master Qin checked so carefully—how did rocks get here?"

"Could it be from the Five Ha crew's car?"

"…"

Speculations flooded the comment section.

In an instant, the cheers from the roadside fell silent. Everyone held their breath. Su Huan's palms were slick with sweat; he wanted to close his eyes but couldn't look away. The Five Ha crew grew tense. Li Lin stared fixedly at the screen, muttering to himself: "Hold it together—hold it together!"

But for Qin Yun, time suddenly stretched.

His heart clenched, pupils contracting—no hesitation. He tapped the tail of the board with his left toe, shifting his center of gravity with explosive speed. The board sliced sideways across the road—"Squeee—!" A deafening screech of friction, sparks spraying along the pavement, smoke rising from the board.

A perfectly executed slide brake—just in the nick of time, letting him avoid the rocks entirely.

Without pausing, he stabilized his center of gravity, then leaned sideways. The board twisted like a serpent, carving through the curve, its edge brushing the guardrail, mere finger-widths from the cliff's edge—excruciatingly close. Fans nearby gasped in unison; they could almost see the cold, focused gaze in Qin Yun's goggles.

Seeing Qin Yun resolve the danger in an instant, the livestream comments exploded.

"Holy shit, that was close."

"Almost crashed—scared the hell out of me. At 80 kph, a fall would kill you or leave you crippled."

"Master Qin's reflexes are insane."

"Incredible. Absolutely incredible."

"My back's drenched in sweat—damn, even more nerve-wracking than watching Master Qin climb mountains."

Qin Yun's heart was pounding too. In that instant, he had felt death's breath. Had his reflexes been slower, his technique less refined, any other person in his place would have lost control and crashed.

But danger or not—he still had to show off.

Through the microphone, his voice remained calm: "Minor hiccup—nothing serious. Extreme downhill is inherently paired with danger. I'm here to conquer it. But this incident slowed me down—I must accelerate, or the 140 target is at risk."

"The King of Showing Off is back online, 666."

"I don't buy it when others show off, but Qin Ye's showing off is genuinely awesome."

"Hahahaha."

Chen He laughed as he watched Qin Yun in the livestream.

The other few also found Qin Yun's calmness and aura of showing off strange, each of their gazes tinged with odd expressions.

Under the camera, Qin Yun raced like a gust of wind, increasing his speed further.

80KM/H, 90KM/H, 100KM/H — as the speedometer on screen crossed the hundred mark, comments suddenly dwindled.

According to Qin Yun's judgment, he had already covered two kilometers since departure; the optimal spot to achieve his goal was at K3+500 meters. If he failed to reach it there, the challenge would almost certainly fail.

There was no longer room for him to accelerate further; otherwise, the danger would be too great.

A distance of over a thousand meters at such speed was a fleeting moment — he had to let loose completely.

Qin Yun's gaze sharpened, casting aside the previous close call, his body pressed lower, nearly flush with the longboard, minimizing wind resistance to the maximum. The longboard became a wild horse let loose, hurtling wildly down the steep straight path. The speed was so terrifying that even the naked eye could feel it.

The terrifying aspect of downhill longboarding lay in how, as speed increased, one's control over the body drastically diminished.

Any large movement could cause the longboard to flip sideways.

110KM/H, 120KM/H, 130KM/H — the speedometer's beeping in his ears sent Qin Yun's adrenaline soaring. At this moment, life, danger — nothing existed. His eyes held only the pure pursuit of speed.

The wind howled so loudly it drowned out all other sound; everything before him seemed to blur.

Qin Yun's immense control held the longboard perfectly straight, every muscle in his body taut, every motion precise to the extreme.

At this moment, every viewer held their breath.

"131 — come on, faster!"

"134 — holy shit, Qin Ye is still accelerating."

"136KM/H — this guy's flying ahead while his soul chases behind."

"I never thought a human could run that fast on the ground."

"137 — go, Qin Ye!"

At this moment, fans gathered by the roadside shouted in excitement: "140! 140! 140!"

Hearing these shouts, the Wu Ha team joined in the cheers, their cameras locked tightly on Qin Yun's figure without a single inch of deviation. Comments flooded the livestream, unreadable — all reading "Charge, Qin Ye!" "Break the record!" "Qin Ye is awesome!" — the concurrent viewership had already surpassed two million.

Qin Yun did not know the exact speed; even though the speedometer was in his line of sight, he dared not look.

At this speed, any distraction meant death. Yet his sensitivity to speed was naturally sharp — though he could not determine the precise number, he knew his current speed was extremely close to the peak he sought.

At this moment, less than three hundred meters remained to K3+500.

The livestream's speedometer flickered wildly: 137KM/H, 138KM/H, 139KM/H!

The instant the speedometer jumped to 140KM/H, a system alert sounded in Qin Yun's ear:

【Check-in task completed. Given the host is in high-speed danger, reward may be claimed at any time after reaching safety.】

Hearing the alert, Qin Yun's heart eased — but he did not slacken. He had come this far — why not break a world record?

'Whoosh!'

The speedometer read: 144KM/H — the straightaway ended; the upcoming curve appeared in view.

"Wow, Qin Ye actually pulled it off."

"Awesome, so awesome — this speed breaks the world record."

"6666666."

"Majestic, taking off."

The comment section erupted in excitement.

Yet Qin Yun still had over two kilometers left to the finish — he naturally would not slow down or stop immediately.

Since he had already achieved the speed, the next two kilometers would let him fully display his downhill longboarding skills. Soon, livestream viewers saw Qin Yun demonstrating a series of drift maneuvers.

Tires screeched against the ground, thick smoke billowed, a long white trail trailing behind him.

By swinging the board sharply left and right, using centrifugal force, he weaved through the curves like a slithering snake. Even as he entered a turn, he executed a sideways brake, gliding smoothly along the ground with the drift's momentum — a perfect drift.

As he neared the finish, he swayed left and right on the straightaway — though slowing, his technique looked impossibly stylish.

At the mountain fork, a crowd had gathered. The moment they saw Qin Yun's figure, they erupted in cheers.

As he neared the finish, Qin Yun executed a sideways brake — the tires screamed against the asphalt, the longboard slowed steadily, and finally stopped precisely at the warning line — not a centimeter more, not a centimeter less.

The crowd went wild. Fans surged forward, surrounding Qin Yun with cheers, shouts, eyes filled with awe and reverence.

"Holy shit, Qin Ye, you're too awesome — I'm gonna have your babies."

"Qin Ye, you broke the record! You broke the record!"

"Streamer, you did it — damn, watching made me wet."

The Wu Ha team atop the mountain also erupted; the production crew's cameras faithfully captured their reactions.

Li Lin's heart swelled with excitement — he felt the 300,000 was worth every penny, even if he'd only bought this single livestream's footage.

Among them, only Su Huan finally let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Finally over — thank goodness!"