Chapter 184

"Hah—!"

With a low grunt, Qin Yun didn't hesitate—he shot onto the snow platform and instantly surged upward, launching his body into the air.

"Damn, so cool, I'm licking the screen."

"Qin Ye's guts are real—he's never heard of the word 'afraid'."

"666, Qin Ye's flying, wuhu—"

Wind howled past his ears; Qin Yun's powerful core spun his body rapidly, his left hand reaching out to grip the inner edge of his boards, executing a perfect Mute grab. In midair, he rotated—once, twice, thrice—a flawless 1080-degree spin.

Simultaneously, his body tilted slightly, completing the Double Cork's dual-axis maneuver—fluid, seamless, no error.

Then he landed steadily, his boards slamming hard against the ice, carving a wide arc before coming to an abrupt stop.

Another D3—he checked the system panel. Only three D3s remained, but the real challenge lay in D4 and D5; without sufficient height, these maneuvers had no chance of being executed.

"OMG, 1080 with double cork—Qin is insane."

"Even in a competition, this move would score high—let alone pulling off D3 under such brutal conditions. It's literally godlike."

"I declare Qin the god of the wilderness."

Qin Yun pulled his attention from the system panel and looked into the camera.

"Ten kilometers away—I estimate another five or so. I wonder if you're enjoying the view? Too bad I can't see your comments; otherwise, this journey would've been even more interesting."

Qin Yun mumbled a few more words and kept gliding forward.

After the snowstorm ceased, the overwhelming sense of desolation became starkly visible on camera—especially when the drone pulled high, reducing Qin Yun's figure to a tiny black dot. Everyone was immersed in the solitude of boundless sky and earth.

Qin Yun spoke in Chinese: "A thousand mountains, no birds in flight; ten thousand paths, no trace of man."

He glided swiftly across the ice plain, his silhouette rising and falling—the only living thing on the endless lake.

After five or six continuous kilometers, an ordinary person would be utterly drained. But for Qin Yun, as long as he wasn't performing tricks, skiing was essentially rest.

This was the instinct born from pushing his skiing skill to its peak—skiing didn't tire him more than walking.

As time passed, he completed several more difficult maneuvers, leaving only one D4 and one D5.

Both D4 and D5 required sufficient air height—otherwise, insufficient hang time made execution impossible.

But the ice surface of Atlin Lake clearly wasn't as perfect as he'd imagined. Though a day and night of snowfall had formed some slopes and jumps, he hadn't seen a single one reaching four or five meters in height.

"Forget it—these jumps are rare. Let's just finish the task first."

Qin Yun sighed helplessly.

Ahead, an icy slope appeared—over ten meters long, like a frozen eave jutting sharply toward the sky, though only two meters high.

He lowered his center of gravity, reduced wind resistance, and accelerated.

In an instant, his boards hit the slope, and his entire body shot skyward, as if breaking free from gravity.

One turn, two, three, four—1440-degree aerial rotation, plus triple-axis motion—he landed the D4 move as steady as ever. But this time, on landing, his board slipped slightly, nearly throwing him off balance.

Qin Yun stopped to inspect. A crack had formed on his left board—small, but it wouldn't withstand violent impacts much longer.

He showed the crack to the camera and chuckled bitterly: "This pair of boards has held up this long already—it's a miracle. But judging by this, they can't take any more punishment."

He glanced back at the slope. Whether another good jump awaited him ahead was uncertain. Since his boards had reached their limit and the path ahead was unknown, why not try completing the final D5 here?

Though the height was insufficient, his exceptional body control should compensate—if he built enough speed, it might work.

Without hesitation, after making up his mind, he announced his plan in the livestream.

The viewers couldn't understand.

Night was coming fast—why waste time attempting these extreme skiing tricks instead of pushing forward?

Qin Yun couldn't explain it was due to the system's check-in task. He backed up on his boards, placed a motion camera on the slope, and retreated three hundred meters before stopping.

"Is Qin Ye crazy? This height? Doing a five-axis aerial spin? That's extreme."

"You can't judge Qin Ye by normal standards—I still haven't seen his limit."

"Trust Qin Ye—he can do it."

"Night's coming. Walking won't get you there before dark."

The drone rose high, the motion camera positioned. Qin Yun gripped his poles tightly, eyes sharp, ready to launch.

If only some BGM played right now—it'd be perfect.

"Huh—!"

He exhaled sharply, pushed hard with his poles—and his boards surged forward.

Three hundred meters of acceleration—he needed maximum speed. Otherwise, insufficient velocity would cripple his takeoff height. With the entire ice plain flat, nearly no slope to rely on, he had to generate all speed himself—zero external help.

As speed built, he swayed left and right, using curves and pole pushes to accelerate further.

At this moment, nearly 90% of the wilderness survival livestream audience focused entirely on Qin Yun's channel—his viewership surged past all others, leaving no comparison possible.

This was only the first week. Through his solo feats, Qin Yun had quietly built his reputation.

It was unimaginable what his fame would reach if he truly won the final championship—likely rivaling top celebrities.

On camera, Qin Yun's figure raced toward the slope like a wild horse unleashed—blazing fast, snow spraying beneath his boards.

One hundred meters… two hundred… three hundred…

As his boards hit the slope, his center of gravity dropped to its lowest. The moment he launched off, a terrifying force erupted from his feet, shattering the ice surface and propelling him into unprecedented height.

Simultaneously, the D5's 1800-degree aerial spin with extreme-axis motion unfolded rapidly in midair.

The incredible body control granted by Master and Legendary-level skills was laid bare.

When he completed all moves, his body was still three meters above ground—and his forward momentum hadn't ceased.

In that instant, he forgot what he was doing. As he stabilized, he tilted his board's nose up at a 70-degree angle, landing on the tail—and kept surging forward.

On camera, it looked as if he were gliding solely on his board's tail—graceful, fluid.

After just dozens of meters of forward motion, the elegant scene suddenly—

"Snap—!"

A sharp, crisp crack rang out. Steady as ever Qin Yun suddenly lost balance—his left board snapped cleanly in two and tore free from his boot.

Instantly, Qin Yun tumbled sideways.

But he'd anticipated this. He thrust his right pole hard into the snow to stabilize himself, shouting: "I knew this move would push my boards to their limit—I was ready."

As he spoke, he leapt forward into a front flip, landed on one foot, spun 180 degrees, and executed an inside carve brake—his body nearly parallel to the ground, snow exploding in all directions.

When he stopped, his right pole had also snapped.

"Holy shit, so cool—and so damn dangerous."

"Only Qin Ye could pull this off. Anyone else would've been dead."

"Qin Ye's got no boards now—he's walking the rest of the way."

"Haha, got what you deserved."

He jumped off his board and inspected the remaining right one—also cracked, but still usable. No major issue, as long as he avoided violent maneuvers.

He retrieved the motion camera from the slope and spoke to the drone's lens: "I know many of you are wondering—what now, without boards?"

He patted the right board and smiled: "I'm not just good with twin boards—I'm good with single boards too. This is a twin board's shape, but for me, using it as a walking substitute? No difficulty at all."

He placed the board on the snow, stepped on it—the width barely covered an adult's foot—and treated it as a pure single board. He pushed off with his left foot, and the board slid forward.

At the same time, his attention turned to the system panel before him.

【Check-in task completed. Reward received: Precision Skydiving +1】

【Precision Skydiving Skill LV1: Countless death-defying skills—you've mastered half. Keep going.】

As the knowledge of Precision Skydiving flooded his mind, Qin Yun found the skill's comment utterly ridiculous.

But thinking it over—he'd indeed mastered many skills that ordinary people would call suicidal.

Like free solo climbing, downhill longboarding, diving—and now Precision Skydiving. Maybe someday he could use this skill for an ultimate wilderness journey.

Twin boards and single boards were different—he had to forcefully control the direction of this board, or he'd veer off instantly.

He glided for over half an hour as dusk deepened.

Finally, he spotted a marked point on his map—a triangular tower exposed on the lake's surface. Obviously placed by the production crew.

"Ha! Look what I found." Qin Yun reached the tower, pulled out his map: "Eight hundred meters east from this tower is the PEP set by the crew."

He reached the lakeshore, stepped onto rocky ground, walked a hundred meters, and entered the forest.

Instantly, the livestream's brightness dimmed.

Snow still lay thick on the ground—unlikely to melt anytime soon. Qin Yun trudged forward, sinking deep in some spots, barely ankle-deep in others.

Just as darkness fell, he spotted a massive spruce tree in his view.

On its trunk, spray-painted in bold letters: PEP.

"Now I just wait for the crew to arrive." Qin Yun scanned the area and quickly spotted a fallen tree nearby.

The tree was thick—about eighty centimeters in diameter.

He brushed off the snow, searched for thinner birch trunks, and said: "I'll find some branches and lay them across this spruce to form a ridge—perfect for building a shelter."

Production camp.

Seeing Qin Yun reach PEP safely, George exhaled in relief—his coffee had gone cold.

The first week had gone smoothly—ten contestants eliminated. But week two would be harder: PEP locations would be farther, and more eliminations were certain.

According to their plan, by the end of four weeks, the number of survivors would reach the target, and they'd move to the next phase.

As time passed, a fire ignited. Qin Yun's shelter was completed.

Soon, the scent of food drifted through the air.

Far from PEP, in a tree hollow, a tiny creature blinked open its eyes, sniffed the aroma, staggered out of its den, and shuffled toward Qin Yun.