Chapter 183: Ten-Kilometer Skiing Performance (It

【Publish checkpoint task: The ice surface of Atlin Lake features small wind ramps, ice ridges with snow platforms, and consecutive snow wave jumps—such a natural skiing paradise would be a shame not to showcase with an extraordinary performance. Host, 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 checkpoint.】

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 program.

And this task was clearly tailored to his own thoughts—yet the ten-kilometer journey was being forcibly turned by the system into a flawless performance.

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

D1 difficulty isn't much—just a basic 180/360 straight jump qualifies as this level; D2 involves single-axis spins like 540/720, and difficulty begins to rise.

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

These maneuvers aren't difficult for Qin Yun, but the problem is this is Atlin Lake's ice surface, not a man-made ramp or snow platform—where are there so many natural, suitable spots to execute these moves?

In other words, he must first find suitable natural ramps along his path.

"Damn it, no difficulty? Then make difficulty out of thin air."

Qin Yun was resigned, but he never refused a task; though there were twenty-seven difficulty maneuvers, the distance was ten kilometers—he figured it shouldn't be a problem, and if suitable natural ramps appeared, he could repeat them as needed.

Securing his feet to the skis, Qin Yun removed his poles, gave a light push, and glided forward, snow parting beneath the boards.

In the camera's view, Qin Yun, on twin skis, adjusted to the feel beneath his feet, and without realizing it, drifted farther from shore.

Above him, snow and wind still fell, with no sign of stopping.

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

"Haha, with these skis, I'm sure it'll be fine." 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?"

Below 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, even in videos."

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

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

"What did Qin say?"

"Did I mishear? He said he's going to perform for us?"

"You didn't mishear—he said Atlin Lake's ice has many natural ramps suitable for performance, and he'll use them during his run."

"OMG, my Jesus."

"Unbelievable, amazing Chinese."

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

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

Qin Yun's words gave foreign netizens a small shock; after speaking, he pushed hard with both arms and shot forward across the ice.

The greatest challenge of this task, in truth, was whether his handcrafted skis could withstand the strain of these maneuvers.

Along the gentle ice, Qin Yun's skis began accelerating slowly; snow sprayed sideways beneath the boards, the drone closely following, its fixed lens locked on him, occasionally switching to the action camera.

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

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

Though D1 was difficult for ordinary people, 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.

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

"Are you sure? It feels dangerous—what if the snow's loose?"

Qin Yun adjusted his center of gravity and direction, increasing speed, but he clearly felt his skis were far less responsive than professional ones—luckily, the spruce had enough resilience to remain stable.

"Go—!"

With a soft shout, as his skis hit the snow ramp, he powered with his core, lifting slightly into the air while twisting his feet and skis sharply leftward. In the camera, his body traced a smooth arc—clean, precise 360-degree rotation, no hesitation, no mess.

Upon landing, his skis slammed into the ice, spraying snow half a meter high; simultaneously, the system interface flashed a notification: D1 difficulty maneuver 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, clutching their phones and screaming "Aoooh!"

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."

"They're surviving; Qin is doing extreme performance—no comparison."

Qin Yun completed the first maneuver smoothly, smiled, and glanced at the drone beside him: "If I find a suitable snow platform, I'll perform a D5 difficulty maneuver 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 person 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 performed four consecutive D1 maneuvers with standing jumps.

If paired with scoring sound effects and visual effects, it would feel like playing a game.

At that moment, visibility improved, and Qin Yun spotted a small wind ramp—he brightened instantly.

Takeoff, twist, landing—fluid as one motion; his body moved with impossible agility, maintaining perfect balance despite the snowstorm, clearly holding back on the 720-degree rotation.

Successfully completed a D2 difficulty checkpoint maneuver.

As soon as he landed, he leapt again, executing a simple 180-degree turn—his speed didn't slow, but accelerated further. His figure darted through the blizzard, veering left and right like a bolt of lightning, slicing across the white expanse of ice.

But the goddess of luck clearly wouldn't favor him forever.

Just as he prepared to complete his first D3, an accident suddenly occurred.

The moment his skis passed over a patch of ground, the snow beneath his feet collapsed, and both skis plunged violently into a crack.

"Shit!"

Qin Yun's speed reached fifty to sixty kilometers per hour; under such immense inertia, he could not control his loss of balance.

In an instant, a terrifying force yanked his feet forcibly off the skis, hurling his entire body into the air.

"Damn, Qin Ye is in trouble."

"We're done—Qin Ye's gonna crash."

"Heh, fell, didn't he? Serves him right."

"Are you dead upstairs? Talking nonsense here."

"I'll say whatever I want. You trash who kiss his ass have no right to speak to me—get lost."

"I f***ing curse your mother."

Seeing Qin Yun flung straight into the air, Su Huan clenched her hands tightly—but the next moment, she exhaled in relief.

In the footage, Qin Yun's heart sank, but at the last possible instant, he released his ski poles. Facing the rapidly approaching ice, he pushed his hands down and braced his waist and abdomen, forcibly stabilizing his body midair.

At the moment of landing, he executed a forward flip, instantly dissipating the inertia and impact from his fifty-to-sixty-kilometer-per-hour speed. He landed on the ground in an extremely graceful pose, all four limbs touching down, then slid backward for a short distance before coming to a stop.

The drone faithfully recorded the entire process, never losing sight of him for even a second.

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

"I'm fine. I'm just worried the ski board might've been damaged by this sudden accident. Otherwise, I'd have to return to the forest and make a new one."

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

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

"I'm done—I'm completely in love with Qin. I've got to get him."

"Qin, when are you going to start streaming on TikTok or YouTube? I'm definitely becoming your fan."

"Aaaah…………"

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 utter a word.

Finally, he looked at George and, for the first time, spoke words of concession: "I believe your judgment now—Qin Zhen is an incredible Chinese."

After saying that, he felt it wasn't enough and added: "But this is still only the first stage—we can't yet conclude Qin will definitely win the championship."

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

At that very moment, Guo Yao finally arrived at the endpoint marked on the map and found a large tree, on which the word "PEP" had been spray-painted in English.

Seeing it, she exhaled deeply, turned to the drone, and smiled.

But her smile looked exhausted—she had lost weight, grown darker, and her eyes seemed dimmed.

"Hello, I've safely reached PEP. Now I just need to wait for the staff to arrive tomorrow to complete my physical check and activate my qualification."

This journey had been extremely hard for Guo Yao—she ate poorly, slept poorly, and encountered many dangers along the way.

If not for good luck, she might have been eliminated in the first week. But now it seemed she'd make it into the second week without issue. Moreover, 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. m. on January 6, twenty-eight people had successfully reached PEP. Based on each livestreamer's progress, roughly forty would make it into the second week—assuming Qin Yun also arrived safely.

But this question, by now, was no longer doubted by anyone.

Qin Yun checked the ski board stuck in the crack and exhaled softly in relief.

"The spruce's toughness is truly remarkable—after such an impact, there's not even a crack." He reattached the ski board to his feet, pulled out a thermos from his chest, took a sip of warm water, pushed off with his ski 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 ceased entirely.

Visibility instantly reached maximum.

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

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

As his speed built, a snow ridge platform appeared ahead. The platform stood over two meters high, with a steep slope 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 ski board's direction, took a deep breath, lowered his body slowly, locked his gaze firmly on the takeoff point, and accelerated rapidly.

"Hah—!"

With a low cry, Qin Yun hesitated not at all—he shot up onto the platform, then exploded with force, launching his body into the air.