Chapter 205: Precision Skydiving (Gentlemen, Please Support)

Qin Yun had once experienced skydiving—it was his only time, and it was over the Qaidam Desert.

Back then, he hadn't mastered precision skydiving, so he went through the whole thing mechanically, drifting with the wind, landing wherever it took him, purely going with the flow.

But now, he was different. A man who has been away for three days deserves to be looked at with new eyes.

Qin's master-level precision skydiving skills—his mastery of parachute deployment, control, head-down descent, lateral sliding, and braking—were flawless. He perfectly timed his maneuvers, adjusted his direction with effortless precision, and moved with complete ease—this was his current state.

"Friends, precision skydiving is an extremely thrilling sport, but it's also one with an extremely high fatality rate. I checked the data—nearly forty people die worldwide each year from precision skydiving."

"This sport is divided into high-altitude and low-altitude skydiving. High-altitude is slightly safer than low-altitude, but because of turbulent upper-air currents, misjudging the deployment timing can easily lead to accidents. Low-altitude skydiving is too fast—you must deploy the parachute almost the instant you exit the aircraft, leaving almost zero margin for error."

"I exited at 3, 00 meters above sea level, which counts as high-altitude skydiving, so I have ample time to maneuver in the air. Since my landing point is the ocean, I don't need to worry about terrain hazards—so long as I deploy the parachute in time, there's no life-threatening risk. But my goal is to land precisely on the beacon I dropped earlier—only then can I demonstrate Qin's immense skill."

"Damn, Qin's about to show off again—everyone, get out of the way."

"Hahaha, 6666."

"I've tried skydiving too—I couldn't control it at all. Too hard."

"Wait, low-altitude skydiving doesn't exist in China, right?"

"Of course not—it's illegal here, and no organization would ever let you train for it."

"So cool, Qin."

"That blinking beacon is so tiny—how can you possibly land precisely on it?"

"I don't believe it. If you land exactly on the beacon, I'll send out a hundred carnival gifts."

Looking at these comments, Qin Yun laughed: "Then get your gifts ready."

As he laughed, the drone rapidly descended and pulled back, revealing the vast, open sea and sky to everyone's view.

Qin Yun's descent speed increased, and he drew closer to the ocean surface.

But he didn't deploy his parachute yet. He stared straight at the beacon, subtly adjusting his limbs in midair. His master-level precision skydiving skill let him effortlessly sense and control the forces between air and his body—he could shift position, glide sideways, accelerate, or roll with ease.

But damn it, Qin Yun still didn't deploy.

Watching his calm expression on screen, Su Huan felt like she was suffocating from tension.

She bit her lip, frantic inside: "Baby, deploy the parachute! Isn't it enough just to land within the beacon's range?"

"Damn, Qin's going all out and still won't deploy."

"2333, Qin, don't overdo it—I heard some skydivers just enjoy the freefall and miss the optimal deployment window."

"Uh… does Qin even remember to deploy?"

"Qin, deploy now!"

In rural Texas, USA, Emily gripped her phone, forgetting to drive—her face was tense with fear.

Not just her—anyone who knew Qin Yun was now filled with anxiety.

Qin Yun estimated the distance. When he was just 600 meters above sea level, he immediately pulled the ripcord. Instantly, he felt a violent yank—the massive drag abruptly slowed his freefall.

Even so, the 600-meter height vanished rapidly.

Qin Yun gripped the parachute lines with one hand and the steering tether with the other, carefully adjusting his position as he inched closer to the beacon.

As success seemed imminent, Qin Yun's voice came through the microphone to the livestream.

"Friends who've played PUBG should know the skydiving experience—everyone can easily and precisely land on a fixed point. The principle is the same, and both are manually controlled."

Hearing this, everyone fell silent.

"Damn, Qin, are you serious?"

"Hahaha, I'm dead—I really can land anywhere in PUBG every time."

"Oh, so I can skydive too—I just found out."

"Qin's full of jokes."

"666!"

"I owe my excellent skydiving skills to countless hours practicing in PUBG," Qin Yun continued. "By the way, my PUBG username is FishFlyingInTheSky—brothers in four-man squads, add me. After this, I'll treat you all to chicken dinner."

He added: "Anyone from Bluehole watching this livestream? Don't forget to pay me for that last clip."

Amid the laughter, Qin Yun landed safely above the beacon, his feet precisely stepping onto it, then plunging with a "plop" into the water. He approached at an angle, accounting for the large parachute canopy to avoid being fully engulfed by it.

He quickly shed the parachute pack, leaving only his head above water.

"Phew…"

The drone hovered above. Qin Yun stared straight into the lens, his expression turning serious: "Friends, from now on, I'm a plane crash survivor. I'm in the Indian Ocean, eight hundred kilometers from any island—I must survive here for nine days, which is a huge pressure even for me."

"And in this environment, if you're uninjured, the first problem you face is dehydration."

Qin's words stunned the livestream viewers for a moment—then many suddenly understood.

"Haha, surrounded by seawater, yet the first problem is dehydration—how ironic."

"Yeah, everyone knows seawater is undrinkable—it'll only kill you faster."

If it were me, just staying afloat on the ocean would be a problem—how the hell doesn't Qin sink?

"Is Qin wearing a life jacket?"

"I'm not wearing a life jacket," Qin said, pulling off his jeans. "Jeans are useless to me—I'll take them off for now, but I won't throw them away—they might come in handy later. Same with the parachute pack—I need to cut some lines and fabric to bring back. I might need them later."

Qin tied the jeans to his arms and swam toward the slowly sinking parachute.

"You're not me—if you ever find yourselves in this situation, never approach the parachute. Once it hits the water, get far away immediately. The lines can easily wrap around your body, dragging you under and drowning you."

Qin neared the canopy, pulled a survival knife from his waist pouch, and began cutting.

His movements were swift. Before the parachute sank, he retrieved four three-meter-long parachute lines and three pieces of canopy fabric, each about two square meters. He tied them together with parachute lines and swam away.

"Dehydration is the first problem after hitting the ocean. Fortunately, before my crash, I had a Red Bull on me—it can temporarily supply enough energy and hydration. But this Red Bull is just for taste—it's full of sugar and electrolytes, so energy-wise it's fine, but water-wise it's nowhere near enough. Drinking it will only make me thirstier."

Qin twisted open the cap, drank deeply without hesitation: "Tastes good. An adult consumes 1, 00 ml of freshwater daily—even if inactive, you need at least 500 ml."

"Without enough water, even I won't last more than a few days—I'll sink into the ocean and become fish food."

Qin looked up at the sky—no clouds, only direct sunlight beating down. He pointed at the sun: "Another problem is the sun. The Indian Ocean's temperature is around thirty degrees. Under this blazing heat, heatstroke is possible. If you pass out from heatstroke, your final fate is sinking into the sea."

He had the drone fly to his face and tapped the water's surface: "But these are secondary issues. For me, the most critical problem is this."

"Seawater?"

"What's wrong with seawater? Besides being undrinkable, it should feel pretty comfortable."

"Seawater is salty."

"Obviously—I know seawater is salty."

"Even freshwater makes your skin wrinkle and whiten after soaking. What happens if you're soaked in seawater for long?"

Qin nodded: "A fan is right—I'm human. Short-term exposure is fine, but prolonged immersion in seawater will damage my skin. So I must build a floating shelter on the ocean to solve these challenges and maximize my survival time."

As he spoke, the helicopter overhead began to depart, soon vanishing from sight.

He turned his gaze back. The comment section was now full of confusion.

"Floating shelter? You've got nothing—how are you going to build one?"

"Is there a nearby island?"

"Could you use the parachute fabric?"

"Only the beacon can be used—turn the canopy into a sunshade."

Qin chuckled: "Someone got it right—the beacon is my stable floating platform. It's as big as my arms can hug—I can sit on it, lie on it, even curl up on it. That way, I won't have to worry about drowning from prolonged seawater exposure. As for the canopy fabric: first, it can shield me from the sun; second, if it rains, I can use it as a rain collector."

"There are no nearby islands. I chose this spot precisely because it's 1, 00 kilometers from the Maldives—to avoid any 'accidents.' I also picked it for temperature reasons."

"It's March now. Here in the Indian Ocean, the day-night temperature difference is minimal—I don't need to worry about temperature swings. If I'd crashed in the Northern Hemisphere right now, I'd be truly doomed—I doubt I'd survive three days."

He shrugged, gripped the beacon, and pulled himself out of the water, sitting atop it.

Facing the camera, he stripped off his T-shirt, revealing his muscular physique to the livestream.

"Damn, I'm drooling—Qin, Chengdu welcomes you."

"Qin's body is amazing."

"666—this physique is insane, a total stats monster."

At this moment, countless women couldn't look away.

In reality, men and women alike are drawn to a beautiful physique.

In the helicopter, Su Huan watched this scene, smirked, and recalled last night's moment—she smiled.

"Hmph. Mine."

Qin tucked away his T-shirt and wiped his face.

"Alright, no more talking. In this short time, I'm already feeling hot. I'll build the shelter first—solve sun protection and seawater immersion, then collect today's freshwater."

With that, Qin Yun got to work.