Chapter 183: Ten-Kilometer Skiing Performance (It

【PUBLISH CHECK-IN TASK: The ice surface of Atlin Lake features small wind jump ramps, ice ridges with snow platforms, and consecutive snow wave jumps—such a naturally perfect skiing destination would be a waste if not used for an extraordinary performance. Complete a ten-kilometer skiing performance, during which you must execute ten D1, eight D2, five D3, three D4, and one D5 difficulty maneuvers to complete the check-in.】

The system's task came out of nowhere; Qin Yun had been in Canada for over ten days, and suddenly a task appeared in the show.

This task was clearly tailored to his own thoughts, but the ten-kilometer journey had been forcibly turned by the system into a flawless performance.

Altogether, these difficulty maneuvers added up to twenty-seven.

D1 difficulty is nothing—just a basic 180/360-degree straight jump qualifies as D1; D2 involves single-axis spins like 540/720 degrees, raising the difficulty.

D3 escalates to the 900/1080 Double Cork level, let alone D4 and D5.

These maneuvers posed little challenge to Qin Yun, but the problem was this was Atlin Lake's natural ice surface—not artificial ramps or snow platforms—where there were hardly any naturally suitable spots to execute them.

In other words, he first needed to find suitable natural jump platforms along his path.

"Damn it, no difficulty? Then make one up."

Qin Yun was exasperated, but he never refused tasks; even with twenty-seven difficulty maneuvers, the ten-kilometer distance gave him room—he figured if suitable natural jump platforms appeared, he could just repeat them a few times.

He secured his feet to the skis, removed his poles with both hands, gave a light push, and glided forward, snow parting beneath the boards.

In the camera's view, Qin Yun, on his twin skis, adjusted to the feel beneath his feet, gradually moving farther from shore.

Snow and wind still fell from above, showing no sign of stopping.

Qin Yun executed a fluid carved turn, the tail of his skis whipping up a flurry of snow, then stopped elegantly right before the drone.

"Haha, with these skis, I'm sure I've got this." He was in good spirits; though he couldn't reveal the system's task, he could still give the livestream a shock.

"Friends who've watched my livestreams should know I'm pretty good at skiing, right?"

On the Douyin livestream, netizens flooded the comments.

"Don't be so shameless, praising yourself."

"You're not just good—you could compete in international competitions."

"I've never seen anyone better than you, even in videos."

Qin Yun regretted not being able to see the comments; if he could interact, he thought it'd be more fun: "Over the next ten kilometers of ice, there'll be plenty of natural jump platforms—I'll attempt to perform some twin-ski tricks at suitable spots for you."

On TikTok, countless netizens were stunned by Qin Yun's words.

"What did Qin say?"

"Did I hear that right? He said he'll perform for us?"

"You didn't hear wrong—he said Atlin Lake's ice has many natural jump platforms suited for performance, and he'll use them while skiing."

"OMG, my Jesus."

"Unbelievable, the Chinese are amazing."

"What if he gets injured? Won't he be eliminated?"

"This Chinese guy is too relaxed—I feel like he's on vacation, not surviving in the wild."

Qin Yun's words gave foreign netizens a small shock; then he pushed off with both hands and shot forward across the ice.

The greatest challenge of this task lay in whether his handcrafted skis could withstand the abuse of these difficulty maneuvers.

Gliding along the gentle ice, Qin Yun's skis gradually accelerated, snow spraying sideways; the drone followed closely, its fixed lens locked on him, occasionally switching to the action camera.

Wind howled past his ears, mixed with the sound of snow pellets striking.

After sliding a short while, a snow ramp several dozen centimeters high appeared ahead—the slope, compacted and smooth from wind, was perfect for testing a D1 maneuver.

Though D1 was difficult for an ordinary person, for Qin Yun it was as easy as walking—no challenge at all.

As he neared the slope, viewers in the livestream saw the incline ahead and grew tense.

"Wow, Qin's serious—I thought he was joking."

"Is this safe? I feel it's risky—what if the snow's loose?"

Qin Yun adjusted his center of gravity and direction, increasing speed; he clearly felt his skis were far less agile than professional ones, but the spruce's resilience kept things stable enough.

"Go—!"

With a soft shout, as his skis hit the snow ramp, he powered up his core, lifted slightly into the air, and twisted his feet to spin the skis sharply left. In the camera, his body traced a smooth arc—clean, precise, 360-degree rotation, no hesitation.

Landing, his skis slammed into the ice, spraying snow half a meter high; simultaneously, the system interface flashed a notification: D1 completed: 1/10, others remained 0/8, 0/5, 0/3, 0/1.

After completing the move, Qin Yun didn't stop—he continued forward with momentum.

Viewers in the livestream erupted, especially TikTok netizens, who clutched their phones and screamed in excitement.

Qin Yun's loyal fans remained calm.

"Basic move, no big deal."

"Look at the TikTok comments—total amateurs."

"Maybe they've never seen someone as awesome as Qin."

"Others are surviving; Qin is doing extreme performance—no comparison."

Qin Yun completed the first maneuver smoothly, smiled, and glanced at the drone: "If I find a suitable snow platform, I'll perform a D5 difficulty move for you."

"FUCK, what did Qin say? D5?"

"This Chinese guy is insane."

"Terrifying—Chinese people are terrifying."

"Does he even know what D5 means? Total bullshit—how could a cowardly Chinese have the guts?"

On TikTok, there were praise and admiration, but also insults and disbelief. Foreign online environments were even messier than domestic ones—every kind of person existed, absurdity rivaling India's.

The path ahead was flat; finding no suitable slope, Qin Yun simply jumped in place, executing four consecutive D1 maneuvers.

With added scoring sound effects and visual effects, it looked exactly like a video game.

At that moment, visibility improved, and Qin Yun spotted a small wind jump ramp—his eyes lit up.

Takeoff, twist, landing—fluid and seamless. His body moved with incredible agility in midair; even amid relentless snow and wind, he maintained perfect balance, clearly holding back on the 720-degree spin.

Successfully completed a D2 difficulty check-in maneuver.

Upon landing, he immediately jumped again, executing a simple 180-degree turn—speed didn't drop, it increased. His figure darted through the blizzard, left and right like lightning, slicing across the white ice plain.

But luck's favor clearly wouldn't last.

As he prepared to attempt his first D3, an accident struck.

Just as his skis passed over a patch of ice, the snow beneath suddenly collapsed, and his skis plunged into a crack.

"Shit!"

Qin Yun was moving at fifty to sixty kilometers per hour—such momentum made controlling his body impossible.

In an instant, a terrifying force yanked his feet violently from the skis, hurling him into the air.

"Holy shit, Qin's in danger!"

"He's done for—he's gonna crash."

"Haha, finally fell! Serves him right."

"Are you dead, upstairs? Talking nonsense here."

"I'll say whatever I want—you little sycophants don't even deserve to talk to me—get lost."

"Fuck you."

Seeing Qin Yun fly through the air, Su Huan gripped her hands tightly—but then she exhaled in relief.

On screen, Qin Yun's heart sank, but at the last moment, he released his poles, planted his hands down, and powered his core to stabilize his body midair as the ice rushed toward him.

On impact, he executed a forward flip, instantly dissipating the momentum and impact from his fifty-to-sixty-kilometer-per-hour speed, landing gracefully on all fours, then sliding backward a short distance before stopping.

The drone faithfully recorded the entire sequence, never losing him for a single second.

Qin Yun stood up, brushed snow off his body, and gave the camera a thumbs-up.

"I'm fine. I'm just worried the skis might've been damaged by this sudden accident—if they're broken, I'll have to return to the forest and make a new pair."

On TikTok, viewers watching Qin Yun's livestream were left speechless by his series of moves.

"Jesus, Qin is incredible—Chinese kung fu."

"I'm done—I'm totally in love with Qin. I have to get him."

"Qin, when will you start streaming on TikTok or YouTube? I'll become your fan for sure."

"Aaaaaaaaaah…"

In an instant, nearly every comment in the livestream was about Qin Yun—his popularity surged again, far surpassing Tom, who ranked second.

Production team, camp!

Daniel opened his mouth but couldn't speak a word.

Finally, he looked at George and, for the first time, admitted defeat: "I believe your judgment now—Qin is truly an incredible Chinese man."

Then he added, feeling it wasn't enough: "But this is still just the first stage—we can't yet say Qin will definitely win the championship."

George chuckled inwardly, thinking: Just wait—you'll be completely conquered by Qin.

At that moment, Guo Yao finally reached the destination marked on the map and found a large tree, its trunk spray-painted with the English word: PEP.

Seeing it, she exhaled deeply, looked at the drone, and smiled.

But the smile looked worn—she'd lost weight, tanned darkly, and her eyes seemed dimmer.

"Hi, I've safely reached PEP. Now I just need to wait for staff tomorrow to complete my medical check and activate my qualification."

This journey had been brutal for Guo Yao—poor food, poor sleep, and numerous dangers along the way.

Had she not been lucky, she might've been eliminated in the first week. But now, it seemed she'd make it to week two without issue. After a week of adaptation, she felt the remaining time would be easier.

Humans are like that—even in the harshest conditions, with no retreat, they adapt quickly.

Daniel tallied the numbers: as of 3 p. . on January 6, twenty-eight people had successfully reached PEP. Based on livestream progress, roughly forty would make it to week two—assuming Qin Yun also arrived safely.

But now, no one doubted that anymore.

Qin Yun checked the skis stuck in the crack and let out a quiet sigh.

"The spruce's resilience is truly impressive—after such impact, not a single crack formed." He resecured his snowboard to his feet, pulled a thermos from his chest, took a sip of warm water, pushed off with his poles, and charged back into the blizzard.

As time passed, the snowstorm began to weaken; by the time Qin Yun had advanced nearly five kilometers, the storm had completely ceased.

Instantly, visibility soared to maximum.

Qin Yun laughed heartily: "Now my speed can increase even further."

So far, Qin Yun had completed all D1 and D2 maneuvers, leaving only four D3s, three D2s, and one D1 remaining.

As his speed built, a snow ridge and ice platform appeared ahead. The platform rose over two meters high, its slope steep at a 45-degree angle, but the takeoff point was extremely narrow, offering almost no margin for error.

Qin Yun narrowed his eyes, swiftly adjusted his board's direction, took a deep breath, lowered his body slowly, fixed his gaze on the takeoff point, and accelerated rapidly.

"Hah—!"

With a low shout, Qin Yun hesitated not at all; in an instant, he shot up onto the platform, then exploded with force, launching his body into the air.