Chapter 135: Adrenaline Ascension (Part 2)

Location: Miaofeng Mountain winding road, Time: 8: 9, countdown started—

【10…9…8……4…3…2…1—】

As 8: 0 arrived, viewers in front of screens held their breath, eyes locked on Qin Yun in the footage.

Qin Yun said nothing—he had already said all he needed to. 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 out all sound.

His gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, his mind rapidly unfolding the map. Like in a game, he now knew his exact position on the entire route.

At the moment he launched forward, fans watching the screen erupted in screams and cheers.

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

The Wu Ha team members stared at their phone screens, faces filled with awe.

"Damn, this speed is insane." Chen He sounded 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 glued to the screen. "If he pulls this off, it'll be legendary."

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

He clearly felt the wind slicing through his fingertips—the freedom, the adrenaline, the exhilaration—completely dispelling all his doubts.

"Friends, this section's still flat—we need to accelerate." Qin Yun shouted, his voice laced with exhilaration.

"Holy shit, you call this flat? Then there's no such thing as a downhill."

"666, Master Qin is so cool—I'm heart-pounding."

"So intense! When the camera cut just now, I felt like a gust of wind slapped my face."

"Can't wait for the steep slopes—I've already got my heart pills ready."

"Fengliu Sister sent the streamer ten Carnival gifts—Master Qin is awesome."

"Polang 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 flood of gifts flooded the screen, drowning out ordinary viewers' comments.

Qin Yun couldn't see any of this. For this livestream, he had to give everything—total focus. Aside from occasional brief remarks, he had no energy left for anything else.

Soon, a curve appeared ahead.

Qin Yun exploded with leg power, channeling all his force into his soles, lowering his body sharply, leaning almost parallel to the ground.

'Swoosh—!'

Without slowing, he shot straight through the turn—this stunned viewers in the livestream into silence.

"Holy shit, he actually did that!"

"Master Qin is insane—I got goosebumps."

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

"Acting tough—wait till you flip and die, see how you handle it."

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

"Can't stand this 'the world's mine, I'm second only to heaven' attitude—hope he crashes and dies."

But these comments were quickly buried under a tide of fan replies, leaving not a ripple.

At the bottom right of the livestream, the speedometer now read over 80 km/h—the maximum speed allowed for cars in urban areas.

Qin Yun was lost in the thrill of speed. The cheers and wind faded into silence; 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 of his fingertips.

Then, suddenly, danger appeared: several loose rocks littered the road ahead. If he rolled over them at this speed, he'd lose control and skid sideways. A crash into the guardrail at this velocity meant certain death.

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

Viewers in the livestream tensed up.

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

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

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

"Did the Wu Ha team's car drop them?"

"…"

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 Wu Ha members grew tense. Li Lin stared fixedly at the screen, muttering: "Hold it together—hold it together!"

But for Qin Yun, time stretched out.

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

A flawless slide brake—just in time, he avoided the rocks.

Without pausing, he stabilized his center, leaned sideways, and the board turned like a serpent, its edge grazing the guardrail, mere finger-widths from the cliff's edge—heart-stoppingly close. Nearby fans gasped in unison; they could almost see the cold, focused gaze behind 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 km/h, a fall would kill or cripple you."

"Master Qin's reflexes are insane."

"Incredible. Absolutely incredible."

"My back's drenched in sweat—damn, this was even more nerve-wracking than watching him climb."

Qin Yun's heart pounded too. In that instant, he'd felt death's breath. Had his reflexes or technique been any slower, anyone else would've lost control and crashed.

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

Through the mic, his voice remained calm: "Minor hiccup—nothing serious. Extreme downhill is about facing danger head-on. I'm here to conquer it. But this incident slowed me down—I need to speed up, or 140 is out of reach."

"The king of flexing is back—666."

"Others flex—I don't buy it. Master Qin flexes, and it's real."

"Hahaha."

Chen He watched Qin Yun on the livestream and laughed.

The others were stunned by Qin Yun's calmness and aura—each looked at him with strange expressions.

On camera, Qin Yun raced like the wind, accelerating further.

80 km/h, 90 km/h, 100 km/h—when the speedometer crossed 100, comments suddenly dwindled.

According to Qin Yun's estimate, he'd covered two kilometers since the start. The optimal point to hit his target was at K3+500. If he failed here, the challenge was almost certainly lost.

Beyond this point, conditions no longer allowed further acceleration—it would be too dangerous.

A thousand-plus meters at this speed passed in the blink of an eye—he had to let go completely.

Qin Yun's gaze sharpened. He pushed aside the earlier danger, lowered his body even further, nearly fused with the board to minimize wind resistance. The board became a wild stallion, hurtling down the steep straightaway. The speed was terrifying—even to the naked eye.

The danger of downhill boarding lay in how, as speed increased, control over the body plummeted.

Any large movement could flip the board sideways.

The wind screamed so loudly it drowned out all sound; everything before him blurred.

Qin Yun's iron control kept the board perfectly straight. Every muscle tensed, every motion precise to the extreme.

At this moment, every viewer held their breath.

"131—come on, faster!"

"134—holy shit, Master Qin's still accelerating."

"136 km/h—he's flying ahead, his soul's chasing behind."

"Never thought a human could move this fast on land."

"137—come on, Master Qin!"

At this moment, fans lining the roadside screamed: "140! 140! 140!"

Hearing them, the Wu Ha team joined the chant. The camera stayed locked on Qin Yun's figure, never wavering. Comments flooded the screen—"Go Qin!" "Break the record!" "Master Qin is awesome!"—and the live viewer count surged past two million.

Qin Yun didn't know the exact speed—he dared not glance at the speedometer.

At this velocity, any distraction meant death. But his sensitivity to speed was sharp; though he couldn't read the number, he knew he was perilously close to his target peak.

Now, less than three hundred meters remained to K3+500.

The livestream speedometer spiked: 137 km/h, 138 km/h, 139 km/h!

The instant the speedometer hit 140 km/h, a system chime rang in Qin Yun's ears:

【Check-in task completed. Given the host is in high-speed danger, reward may be claimed upon safe return.】

Hearing the chime, Qin Yun's heart eased—but he didn't slacken. He kept accelerating. Since he'd come this far, why not break a world record?

'Swoosh!'

Speedometer reading: 144 km/h. The straight ended; a curve appeared ahead.

"Whoa, Master Qin actually did it."

"Incredible—this speed breaks the world record."

"6666666."

"Mighty. Taking off."

The comment section erupted in excitement.

But Qin Yun still had over two kilometers to the finish—he wouldn't slow down now.

Since he'd already achieved the speed, the next two kilometers would let him showcase his downhill boarding skills. Viewers then watched Qin Yun execute a series of dazzling drifts and turns.

The wheels screeched against the ground, spewing thick smoke, leaving a long white trail behind him.

By sharply swaying the board left and right, he harnessed centrifugal force, slithering through the curves like a serpent. At the very moment before entering a turn, he executed a sideways brake, gliding smoothly along the ground with perfect drift.

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

At the mountain fork, the crowd had gathered; the instant they spotted Qin Yun, they erupted in cheers.

Just before reaching the end, Qin Yun executed a sideways brake—the wheels shrieked against the asphalt, the longboard decelerating steadily, finally stopping precisely at the warning line, not a millimeter more, not a millimeter less.

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

"Holy shit, Brother Qin, you're insane—I'm gonna have your babies."

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

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

The Wuha Team atop the mountain also erupted; the production crew's cameras faithfully captured their reactions.

Li Lin's heart raced with excitement—he felt the 300, 00 was worth every penny, even if he'd only bought this one livestream's footage.

Among the crowd, only Su Huan finally let out a breath, her tense heart sinking into relief.

"It's finally over—thank goodness!"