Chapter 20: Free Solo Climb

September 8, 4:30 a. m., Qin Yun silently entered the scenic area and appeared at the bottom of Qingtong Ravine, north of Fanzi Cliff.

The area is littered with broken rocks, jagged boulders, and dense thickets of thorny shrubs—there is not a single cushioning surface like soil or grass. If you fall during the climb, survival is nearly impossible.

But at this moment, he did not consider these things.

He began assembling the drone at the preset takeoff point, installing two fully charged batteries, then launching each drone one by one to their hover positions and locking the camera angles. Three drones total: two capturing footage from different angles, one continuously tracking him and capable of basic gesture control.

Only with today's advanced technology could one person handle all this alone; in the past, it would have been nearly impossible.

Watching the drone before him, it floated in sync with Qin Yun's movements, its lens consistently keeping his full body in frame.

After finishing, he clipped the action camera to his head, turned on recording, confirmed everything was set, then checked his phone's signal again in another compartment of his magnesium bag.

Then he began warming up on the spot and spoke seriously to the lens: "Hello everyone, I'm Qin Yun, currently at the bottom of Qingtong Ravine, north of Fanzi Cliff on Mount Taishan."

"I'm an outdoor adventure enthusiast, skilled in instrument repair, vehicle maintenance, photography, and rock climbing. Today, I will attempt to free solo climb Fanzi Cliff with no protective gear—my goal is one hundred meters."

As he spoke, the drone swiftly retreated, capturing a wide-angle shot that framed the deadly steepness of Fanzi Cliff.

Since this isn't live-streamed, Qin Yun stopped talking after that, continued warming up, loosening his muscles and joints, then began applying magnesium powder.

When everything was ready, he downed the electrolyte drink in one gulp and gave a thumbs-up to the drone beside him.

"I'm ready. Let's go on a thrilling, heart-pounding climbing journey together—through the lens."

Qin Yun's expression turned grim. He looked up at the cliff face, towering nearly three hundred meters—an extremely terrifying height.

He'd researched this in recent days: in the U. S., there's El Capitan, with a route called the Dawn Wall, roughly 914 meters high—the world's hardest big-wall free climb. If he were to attempt that with free soloing, he believed no human on Earth could complete it.

The distance is too great, the time too long. The human body has limits; under intense exertion, muscles become irreversibly fatigued within three or four hours. That means the best possible summit window is only three or four hours.

This Fanzi Cliff before him—he believed few in the world could free solo it under his conditions, since all records were set after thorough preparation. Fortunately, he only needed to climb one hundred meters; if he had to reach the summit, he absolutely wouldn't have dared.

He pressed his palms against the cliff face. The rough granite scraped his fingertips, and long-dormant adrenaline surged through him.

He bent his knees and pushed off—the ground, his body leaping like a mountain goat straight up to the first ledge, three meters high—the drone hovered ten meters above his side, its lens locked steady on his movements.

As he scraped against the rock, his voice entered the microphone and was recorded in real time by the drone: "Unprotected free solo climbing tests a person's physical fitness and mental resilience. Technique matters, but it's secondary to the first two. Without strong mental fortitude, no matter how skilled you are, you cannot overcome fear—mistake means death."

The first twenty meters went smoothly; the cracks in the cliff were relatively even. His movements were flawless, precise as programmed—every grip, every kick perfectly timed, astonishingly fast.

Three drones plus the action camera—four lenses faithfully recorded every moment.

The bulging veins on his forearms, the bluish-white knuckles—every detail was crystal clear. And as he climbed, he explained aloud, his breathing steady: "Current climbing speed is about three meters per minute—this is already the limit for outdoor free soloing. Look at my feet—I'm using core stability to center my weight, avoiding unnecessary movements that waste energy."

Soon, the first danger arrived silently—at the thirty-meter mark, one of the pre-planned handholds.

His right hand had just gripped it when his fingertips suddenly felt a fine crumbling.

A weathered false hold—Qin Yun's heart clenched, his body instantly losing weight and dropping half a meter. His nerves snapped taut, but he showed no panic. His left leg slammed against the rock, using the recoil to swing his body leftward, his left hand snapping into a narrow crack like a flash of lightning, fingers jammed deep into the stone fissure.

He stabilized himself mid-air, gasped twice, then looked at the nearby drone: "I planned multiple routes for this free solo. This one's dead now—I must switch to a backup. Luckily, I haven't expended much energy yet."

He looked down, the camera above sweeping over Qingtong Ravine below—a wave of danger rushed over him.

He adjusted his rhythm, avoiding the weathered zone on the right, choosing a left-side route with more rock protrusions. His fingers gripped the rock corners, arm muscles bulging as he hauled his body upward. His knees pressed into hollows on the cliff, propelling him another few meters higher.

At the same time, Qin Yun waved his hand—the drone instantly retreated, switching to a wide shot. His tiny figure clung to the vertical cliff, beneath him the bottomless Qingtong Ravine, flanked by sheer rock walls—visually overwhelming.

"I've now reached fifty meters. On flat ground, fifty meters seems nothing—but from up here, it's nearly twenty stories. Anyone with acrophobia standing where I am would already have weak legs."

As he spoke, the drone flew back in front of him. He pointed ahead: "This section of cliff is nearly vertical—spaced, smooth holds. Finger strength is critical. If you're watching this video, do not attempt this. Now I can't speak—I must move continuously. One slip, and you'll see me smash into pieces."

Qin Yun slowed his pace, fingers gripping cracks, legs alternating, body pressed tightly against the rock to minimize wind interference.

Even so, the instant he hung from the wall, a sudden valley gust slammed into the cliff—his previously secure position instantly lost footing under his left leg, and his right hand slipped off its hold.

His pupils contracted. Every muscle tensed. His left hand clamped down hard on the crack, his right hand frantically groping through air—finally hooking the edge of a protruding rock. The next instant, his right foot lost its grip too—he swung like a pendulum in midair, feet dangling over a hundred-meter abyss. One loose grip, and he'd be dead.

His heartbeat pounded like a drum. He forcibly suppressed his panic—because panic keeps muscles contracted, accelerating anaerobic metabolism, producing lactic acid and other waste. For him, that's fatal.

He glanced at his left and right holds, slightly relieved: "Sudden gust—almost done for, guys. Don't ever try this. One mistake, and you're dead."

He swung his body slightly, his feet quickly found new footholds, and he resumed climbing upward.

But for some reason, within minutes, gust after gust of valley wind struck—he dared not move again, clinging to the cliff like a spider, utterly still.

He relied on his powerful core and unyielding five-finger strength.

In the footage, his arm and leg muscles were sharply defined, each fiber visible—perfectly showcasing the human form.

When the wind passed, Qin Yun himself felt his fingers aching and swollen. He took a deep breath, eyes locking onto a crack three meters above. He bent his knees slightly, gathered strength, shifted his center of gravity backward, then exploded upward with his left leg—his body shot sideways like an arrow released from a bow.

The drone followed closely—the frame showing only the wind's howl and Qin Yun's ragged breathing.

'Crack!'

Qin Yun's right hand precisely seized the crack, fingers jammed deep. His body, due to momentum, plunged downward sharply. Then he pressed his left leg flat against the rock, finally exhaling a long breath.

"Guys, I'm now at ninety meters—only ten meters left to my goal. Do you see that one-meter stretch of smooth rock ahead? No holds at all. I must use a dynamic move to cross it. If I succeed, today's goal is complete. If I fail, this video will never reach you."

He finished speaking, climbed two meters upward, reaching the previously described hold-free zone.

Crossing that one meter was obviously difficult. The challenge wasn't in his hands—it was in his legs. Only by exploding with leg power could he propel himself across.

"One… two… three…"

He counted silently in his mind, held his breath, focused all strength into his legs, and kicked off violently—his entire body launched into midair. Had there been a slow-motion orbit shot, it would have shown Qin Yun's body fully detached from the cliff, suspended in empty space.

It seemed long—but lasted less than a second. His right hand landed precisely on the target hold—but the next instant, the hold loosened.

Qin Yun's blood ran cold, his face paled. Fortunately, the hold only loosened slightly and didn't fully break—but he didn't relax. A loosened hold meant it was on the verge of crumbling. He was now suspended entirely by his fingers—any slip, and he'd die.

Only one meter remained to the hundred-meter ledge. Qin Yun swayed slightly, using the momentum to whip his right leg upward, barely stabilizing himself. Then, as his right hand gripped the ledge's edge, he finally exhaled.

"Fucking hell—almost dead."

Qin Yun cursed inwardly but still didn't relax. The ledge was small and cramped—he had to horizontally shift to the other side to descend safely. Returning the way he came? That wasn't bravery—it was suicide.

As he re-gripped a hold, preparing to shift sideways, the system alert chimed on time—startling him into freezing.

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

【Botany LV1: Sharp-Eyed Plant Recognition, Masterful Cultivation, Identifies All Plants, Knows Origin on Contact】

As the alert faded, a flood of botanical knowledge surged into his mind—hammered into his memory as if forged a thousand times.

He turned his head toward the few plants on the cliff face—and instantly understood them all.

"Rock shuttle, a perennial herbaceous plant that likes to grow on cliff faces, with densely clustered stems in a blunt triangular shape, hairless, possessing certain medicinal value, generally not suitable for consumption."

"Dragon's-whisker vine, a woody leguminous climbing plant, with leaves shaped like a sheep's hoof, likes sunlight, is relatively shade-tolerant, and has medicinal effects such as dispelling wind and removing dampness, activating blood circulation and relieving pain."

Even though he had already experienced it four times, feeling once again that sensation of being surrounded by knowledge still felt miraculous.

He temporarily suppressed the urge to check, and slowly edged toward one side.

But just at that moment, a voice suddenly came from afar.

"Holy shit, someone's here."

Qin Yun turned his head to look and saw that on the cliff edge on the other side happened to be a mountain path, where several tourists were staring dumbfounded at this scene.

He paid them no heed—he couldn't afford to be distracted right now.

"Bro, what are you doing? Filming a movie? Where's the crew?"

"..."

Qin Yun acted as if he hadn't heard, gripped a crack in the rock, and swung his body directly to another rock point. This sight made those few people's eyeballs nearly pop out of their sockets.

"Quick, take photos, record it—holy shit (¬д¬。), this guy doesn't seem to have any safety measures."

After spending another full ten-plus minutes, Qin Yun finally traversed sideways to one side. He quickly stepped onto solid ground, and his entire body relaxed from the inside out. He looked up at the drone and smiled.

"Brothers, this challenge of free soloing the hundred-meter unprotected Fan Cliff climb is a success. See you."

After saying that, he immediately turned off the drone and quickly ran down the mountain. He needed to recover all his equipment right away, otherwise if the Mount Taishan staff found out, they would definitely call the police and take him away.

"Hey... don't go, bro."

Qin Yun turned a deaf ear, quickly climbed over the obstacle, and returned to the bottom of the Qingtong Gully. He disassembled and packed up the drone and all the scattered equipment, then vanished in a flash—ran off.

"Where, where is he?"

At this time, several staff members who had received the call had already rushed over, but where was there any trace of Qin Yun?