Chapter 19: Preparations

Qin Yun admitted he was not a reckless man who treated danger as nothing.

He worried about many things.

Most fundamentally, what if something went wrong—what would his mother do? And furthermore, he valued his life dearly. After going through so much to gain the system and start a new life, to die a shattered death while completing a check-in task would be utterly unjust.

But he also feared that if he did not complete this check-in task, whether the system would ever issue another one. He had communicated with the system, but clearly this system was not intelligent—it gave no feedback beyond issuing check-in tasks.

Going meant fearing death; not going meant fearing the system might be permanently shelved.

Whichever choice he made, Qin Yun's concerns were numerous, and this completely dissolved his once-easy mood, leaving him anxious.

In his indecision, Qin Yun found himself staring unconsciously at Mount Taishan's summit in the afternoon.

When he stepped onto the final stone step and stood atop the peak, the sun was just sinking behind the horizon.

The mountain wind carried a crisp chill, sweeping the faint scent of pine needles and vegetation across his face, instantly dispelling the sweat and heat from his climb.

At this moment, beside the stone tablet inscribed "Sole Sovereign of the Five Sacred Mountains," tourists thronged, each snapping photos. Qin Yun looked up—the entire Mount Taishan was bathed in warm golden twilight, magnificent beyond words.

"So beautiful!"

Qin Yun sighed, watching the setting sun suspended at the farthest edge of the rolling peaks, its orange halo spreading layer upon layer like paper dipped in pigment, diffusing outward.

A few wisps of Xuxu Baobao drifted between the mountain hollows; the golden rays of the sunset fell upon them, turning the mist into golden ribbons.

He wasn't particularly tired—his body had reached an unimaginable level of fitness. If climbing Mount Taishan left him exhausted, then free-climbing would be out of the question.

Facing the sunset, Qin Yun pressed the shutter, freezing that sliver of red in place.

The outlines of distant mountains gradually blurred; the final golden glow of the sun vanished entirely. Soon after, the mountain wind picked up, and the temperature atop the peak slowly dropped. Tourists around him dispersed one by one; the clamor of voices was swiftly swallowed by the sighing pines. In no time, the crowd on Jade Emperor Peak thinned out.

Qin Yun walked to the side of the "Sole Sovereign of the Five Sacred Mountains" tablet, his gaze crossing the empty viewing platform toward Fanzi Cliff in the distance. There, it had merged into the mountain's greenery, leaving only a faint black silhouette, standing silent amid the peaks.

The anxiety, temporarily suppressed by the grandeur of the sunset, surged back like a tide.

He raised a hand to press his temples, the thought of "go or not go" flashing through his mind once more.

Going meant surrendering his life to fate.

Not going—what if, because he failed to complete the check-in, the system fell permanently silent? Was he content with that? He could certainly live brilliantly with his current abilities, but if more possibilities, more skills awaited him, wouldn't that be even more wonderful?

He looked down at his hands, fingers spread, knuckles distinct. These hands were no longer weak and helpless, no longer limited to typing keyboards—under the system's miraculous power, his flesh, sinews, and bones had undergone a complete transformation.

Yes, his body was no longer the one he once was. He had scaled Mount Taishan without effort, survived a high-speed car crash with calmness—could he now shrink back out of fear?

Qin Yun slowly walked to the cliff's edge; below him stretched a bottomless valley, where the murmur of a stream could barely be heard. The mountain wind swept through, carrying the scent of wild nature into his chest, clearing the fog from his mind.

"I'm not the man I used to be—what am I afraid of?"

Qin Yun's voice was so soft only he could hear it. He took a deep breath, and the tension in his chest seemed largely dissolved by the cold air.

He no longer dwelled on the "what if something goes wrong" outcome, nor did he ponder the consequences of failing the check-in.

In that moment, only one thought remained in his heart: try it!

Not an impulsive gamble—he would prepare thoroughly, consider every possible risk.

…………

At the hotel, Qin Yun scrolled through his phone, the screen showing a live stream.

He spent some time researching today's Douyin livestreaming niches—mostly general entertainment and e-commerce livestreaming. General entertainment meant gaming, talent showcases, aesthetic interaction, voice chat, and so on; e-commerce livestreaming, of course, meant selling goods.

Among these, gaming livestreaming and e-commerce sales had the highest verticality and strongest user retention.

Traffic in other niches was concentrated almost entirely among top streamers; an ordinary streamer was lucky to attract a hundred viewers.

Since Qin Yun had firmly decided to free-climb Fanzi Cliff, he also intended to try the self-media route. Otherwise, completing a check-in task alone would be a terrible waste of such a perfect hook and material.

So he planned to record the entire free-climb. His reason for studying livestreaming was that if future check-in tasks became frequent, live streaming would be more effective than editing footage afterward.

After exiting Douyin, he checked Constable—largely the same. Then he returned to his desktop and found Douyu already downloaded; he clicked in and registered an account.

Upon inspection, he discovered Douyu's livestreaming differed greatly from Douyin's.

Douyu was livestreaming pure and simple, deeply rooted in gaming, with some entertainment and outdoor content, but centered on subscriptions; Douyin combined short videos and livestreaming, focusing on traffic monetization. Moreover, Douyu's danmu culture was far more mature, emphasizing "companion-style interaction," ideal for long viewing sessions; Douyin was the opposite—fast, short, and punchy, easy to swipe past.

"Forget overthinking for now—first, buy the equipment."

Since this was outdoor rock climbing, a pair of high-end professional climbing shoes was essential; next, magnesium powder, tape, and a first-aid kit were all necessities—no one knew what might go wrong during the climb, so preparation must be thorough.

Beyond that, came the filming equipment.

Since he was alone, the best recording setup, besides a wearable action camera, required a drone.

As for drones, Qin Yun knew only one brand—DJI. He opened DJI's official website, browsed a few models meeting his needs, and immediately went blind—nearly fainted.

The most expensive one cost nearly 130,000 yuan, making him acutely aware of just how poor he was.

"I'll stay more down-to-earth—this kind of gear isn't for me, and I'd probably film it poorly anyway."

Qin Yun muttered to himself, then ordered three drones and one action camera, spending a total of 60,000 yuan.

After contacting DJI customer service and confirming the equipment could be picked up directly at a local authorized store, Qin Yun drove out of the hotel, first stopping at an outdoor gear shop to purchase all climbing essentials.

Once everything was confirmed, he drove to the DJI authorized store.

After all equipment was assembled, he studied it for half a day, then over the next two days, disguised as a tourist, he conducted multiple route reconnaissances.

First, he marked rock point locations, recording their angles with his phone, and simultaneously marked three drone takeoff and hover points. Second, he observed how rock wall dryness and shadow zones changed under different sunlight conditions.

After several trips, he decided to set the climb for 5:30 a. m. on September 8th, three days from now.

Because it was currently a hot season, early morning had less fog, higher visibility, and lower humidity on the rock wall—drier conditions. Also, at this time, Fanzi Cliff was unlikely to have any visitors, avoiding the risk of being discovered.

Moreover, wind strength at Fanzi Cliff was weakest at this hour, posing minimal impact on the drones.

Having made his decision, Qin Yun found a nearby climbing gym online and began familiarizing himself with these new skills.

……

"This route is so hard…" muttered a girl in pink sportswear—this was her fifth time sliding down the wall, leaving her deeply discouraged.

Those around her comforted her, helping her regain confidence and prepare to try again.

"You must learn to observe and analyze, not rely on bodily sensation—those two things on your head are eyes, not holes."

The coach, Jia Shan, who had been silently watching, could no longer hold back—he walked over.

The girl blinked her eyes, looking at her in confusion.

Jia Shan pointed to several rocky holds where the girl had repeatedly failed: "Don't step directly on these. You won't stabilize yourself. When you reach this spot, press your knee against it, relax your body—no brute force here; you must maintain balance."

After saying all that, seeing the girl still bewildered, he shook his head and stepped in himself.

He leapt lightly, his right foot landing precisely on the protrusion, his body extending upward as he climbed, all while speaking.

Several trainees watched this in admiration; the girl stared at his movements with worshipful eyes.

Soon, Jia Shan reached the spot where the girl had always fallen. He pressed his knee against it, relaxed his body slightly, then swiftly moved his right hand past one hold to grasp the next support.

"Unless you have a powerful Core, this is the best way."

Qin Yun watched this scene, his heart tingling. Though the movements of these people seemed clumsy to his eyes, he could tell they were all passionate about this sport.

He glanced left and right at several routes, finding them all too simple—in his view, no different from walking. Too basic.

As Jia Shan descended, everyone cheered. The boy, however, retained some self-awareness; though proud, he waved his hand modestly: "This isn't much. The real masters are those who climb outdoors with zero protection—that's true skill."

Everyone shrank back. Even indoor unprotected climbing was beyond their courage, let alone outdoors.

"Wow… he's so fast!"

Suddenly, one person's gaze shifted to an adjacent climbing route, where a young man ascended without pause, those difficult holds they'd struggled with now seeming nonexistent in his hands.

Everyone turned instantly, gasping—especially Jia Shan, whose face twisted in shock.

"This… how is it possible?"

Qin Yun warmed up by trying a few routes, then began increasing the difficulty for himself.

When Jia Shan saw Qin Yun move horizontally to the endpoint using only his fingers, without any lower-body support, his mouth hung wide open, his eyes glazed with disbelief. If a professional like him was this stunned, the other trainees were beyond words.

They looked at him as if he were a god.

Boom!

Qin Yun landed on the foam pad, gaining deeper insight into his climbing skills.

"B…Brother… are you a professional climber?"

At that moment, a voice sounded beside him. Qin Yun turned—it was the young coach.

Qin Yun shook his head: "Hobby."

Jia Shan's lip twitched, thinking: Your hobby level could crush countless professionals.

"Do you have any harder routes here?" Qin Yun asked.

Jia Shan nodded, pointing toward the corridor: "There's another area inside. That's the hardest. But for you… it should be… about right."

Qin Yun smiled: "May I try it?"

"Of course."

Soon, the two crossed the corridor and entered another area. Qin Yun glanced at the wall—it was indeed much harder than outside, but only just.

Jia Shan pointed to a gray climbing zone: "This is the hardest. Even I can't guarantee success every time. Maybe you should…"

Before he finished, he saw Qin Yun dusting his hands with magnesium powder and climbing barehanded—no safety gear at all.

"Brother… Brother, put on the carabiner! Put on the carabiner!" he shouted urgently.

Qin Yun considered it—after all, this was their facility. If something went wrong, they'd be held responsible. To reassure them, he clipped a carabiner around his waist. But whether he wore it or not made no difference to him.