Chapter 208

"With these baits, I might hook a few big ones." Qin Yun hooked the sea snake's spine onto one end of the umbrella line and hung a piece of snake meat on it.

With a hard swing, the umbrella line shot out directly.

"But not too big—this spine can't handle it. Better to go for barracuda or longnose trevally; these sea fish can be eaten raw."

Then he waited half a day—no single hair of a fish bit the hook.

Every time he cast the line, the bait was devoured in moments, leaving him utterly frustrated. The snake meat on the spine hook vanished even before it fully sank.

"Damn it, are the sardines here targeting me?"

Watching Qin Yun's frustrated expression, the livestream viewers burst into laughter.

"Rare to see Qin Ye get beaten."

"Sardines: You ate our comrades, now you think you'll get off easy?"

"Want barracuda or longnose trevally? Dream on—everything's possible in dreams."

"Hahaha, killed me."

He yanked the umbrella line—the spine hook was empty again. Frustrated, he grabbed the nearby net bag, stuffed a piece of fish meat inside, and hurled it out with all his strength.

He swore: "Today, I'm eating sardines."

Sure enough, a large school of sardines was nearby. As soon as he dropped the net, the umbrella line jerked violently—clearly a massive number. Qin Yun dared not let them swim freely into the net; he began pulling it back.

When he hauled the net up to the beacon, the number of sardines inside was staggering.

More than twenty sardines tumbled and leapt inside.

Yet looking at these sardines, Qin Yun felt no joy.

He sat on the beacon and said helplessly to the camera: "Sardines can be eaten raw, but they're full of tiny bones and have a strong fishy smell. Compared to barracuda—the king of raw fish—they're worlds apart. Barracuda meat is snow-white, tender, with just the right fat content, almost no fishy odor, few bones, thick flesh, and perfect texture."

He shook his head: "Damn it, I can't talk anymore—I'm salivating. But I haven't eaten since morning, so I'll just eat a few sardines."

Saying this, he began preparing them.

With swift knife strokes, several sardines met Yama: "Though life in the sea is harsh and cooked food is impossible, there are advantages. At least I don't have to worry about salt intake or iodine deficiency—even have to worry about exceeding the limit."

"But surviving here can't last too long. If rescue doesn't come after a long time, even daily fish won't save you. Without plant-based trace elements, your strength will dwindle, your power fade, until finally you're just lying there waiting to die."

"Why? Isn't having food enough?"

"Aren't fish rich in these trace elements?"

"That can't be right."

Qin Yun glanced at the comment section and smiled: "Marine fish contain almost no vitamin C. Prolonged lack of vitamin C leads to scurvy—initial symptoms include bleeding gums, loose teeth, slow wound healing, fatigue, mental dullness, and eventually internal bleeding and zero physical strength. Lack of dietary fiber paralyzes the intestines. Lack of folate and other trace elements causes muscle weakness. Fish meat is high-protein—it makes you thirstier and weaker the more you eat."

"There's a condition called rabbit starvation—eating only lean meat can literally starve and weaken you to death."

"Holy crap, I never knew that if Qin Ye hadn't mentioned it."

"Obviously—normal people don't bother learning this."

"Qin Ye damn well knows everything."

"666, Qin Ye is awesome."

"Jesus, Qin's knowledge base is insane."

Qin Yun placed the cleaned sardine pieces into his mouth, chewed through the fishy taste: "But I only have nine days, so I don't need to worry about this—I don't have to fear trace element deficiency."

After eating four sardines, Qin Yun stopped. He cut a piece of umbrella fabric into a water bag, placed the remaining sardines inside, and sank it into the sea to eat later when needed.

"Whoosh—"

A sudden gust of wind blew, causing the beacon to sway slightly.

Qin Yun looked up at the sky—and his expression changed slightly. The once crystal-blue heavens were now darkening as thick clouds rolled in from afar.

"Bad. A storm's coming."

He sprang to his feet, staring at the distant sky, the camera now focused there.

"We're done. Qin Ye is done for."

"Damn, a storm? In the open ocean, even ocean liners get flipped. What's Qin Yun going to do?"

"Totally screwed."

"OMG, storm's here—Qin can only leave it to fate."

At this moment, everyone in the livestream saw the distant dark clouds—moving fast.

Qin Yun didn't hesitate a second—he moved swiftly.

He secured everything with umbrella lines and fabric, detached and fastened the distiller, then strapped the drone tightly to both arms, leaving only the head-mounted action camera active.

"Ocean storms can produce waves five to six meters high—I have zero defense. Luckily, my beacon won't sink. I just need to hold on tight and wait for the storm to pass."

He turned his gaze to the drone's left camera, his expression grave: "But the danger of giant waves is worse than you imagine. A five- to six-meter wave crashing on your head can knock you unconscious instantly—if you pass out, you're finished."

"Even with the beacon, the storm will repeatedly slam me underwater. One slip, seawater enters my nose and lungs—coughing, suffocation, anytime. My strength will collapse within minutes."

"When the storm hits, sea surface temperature drops, but the Indian Ocean isn't too concerning right now. More critically, if a giant wave swallows me, I'll pass out in seconds. This is the real danger of my livestream—brothers, pray I survive."

In Maldives, in a living room, Su Huan watched the screen's pitch-black sky—her heart leapt to her throat. She trusted Qin Yun, but against nature's power, humans were too small.

Yet Qin Yun's tone remained calm, so she could only wait nervously.

Domestically, countless viewers watched this scene, instantly alert, typing furiously in the comments.

Douyin's backend real-time viewership surged to twelve million, smashing the record for individual livestream viewership—and still climbing rapidly.

The authorities clearly spotted the traffic opportunity; even people outside this audience group stumbled upon Qin Yun's livestream in recommended videos.

Thus, his viewer count skyrocketed—inevitable.

Overseas, the combined livestream viewership on TikTok, YouTube, and Twitch exceeded thirty million—this level of hype was insane.

The popularity Qin Yun had built up in *Wild Survival* had now fully transformed into real traffic.

The storm arrived fast—the environment around Qin Yun was now completely swallowed by dense, impenetrable clouds; the entire Indian Ocean seemed plunged into darkness.

The sea wind turned fierce—not the gentle breeze of before, but a furious beast, violently lashing his body. His cheeks burned from the wind, his ears filled with a howling "woo-woo."

He quickly ducked under the umbrella fabric, recording everything with only his peripheral vision and the lens in his left hand.

"The wave's coming!"

His voice merged with the gale into the livestream, and instantly everyone saw the lens spin violently upside-down.

The entire beacon block was instantly ripped upward and swept beneath the wave.

"Boom—!"

The instant the beacon block fell, the surge crashed down, seawater slamming into Qin Yun without mercy. The terrifying force made him grit his teeth—luckily his physical condition was exceptional; any ordinary person would've passed out from just that one hit.

In the raw footage, the beacon block drifted like a rootless dead leaf, tossed and churned by the waves; Qin Yun surfaced briefly, then plunged beneath, his own insignificance more palpable to him than ever in his livestreaming career.

He had no capacity to resist—only passive endurance.

Letting the gale, rain, and waves scour him over and over.

Tens of millions in the livestream watched this scene, stunned into silence.

The few comments that did appear were:

"Terrifying, utterly terrifying."

"Bro Qin, hold on tight!"

"Don't let go—not even for a second, or you're done."

"Trust Bro Qin—he can do it."

Qin Yun's beacon block rose high again, lifting clear of the sea, then crashed back down with brutal force.

Yet even so, his hands clung to the beacon block, never loosening their grip.

"Puh—!"

Qin Yun spat out seawater and laughed: "Brothers, the storm's wild, but I, Qin, ain't no pushover. Believe me—storms on the sea come fast and go fast."

Everyone was stunned by Qin Yun's optimism.

Fuck, how can he still be laughing at a time like this?

People fear the unknown—but after repeated battering and rolling, Qin Yun gradually lost his fear.

Of course, this relied on his formidable physique: no matter how the waves slammed or yanked, he remained as fixed to the beacon block as if nailed there, utterly motionless.

Even when flipped over and his body plunged into the sea, he could hold his breath and maintain clear consciousness for long stretches.

Each time the storm scoured him, his confidence grew stronger.

In the livestream lens, the gale felt tangible, whipping the umbrella fabric with a loud crack; wave crests rose like hills and crashed down overhead—this immersive sensation was intensely thrilling; everyone could feel just how terrifying this sudden crisis was.

After over an hour, the storm intensified—the waves grew larger; had there been a distant shot, one could see Qin Yun and the beacon block never ceasing their tumbling through water and air.

Despite such torment, Qin Yun remained lucid, still able to speak—leaving viewers awestruck.

"Tear—!"

At that moment, a hole Qin Yun had cut with his dagger in the corner of the sturdy umbrella fabric suddenly split open under the gale—the tear widened instantly, and the next second, the entire umbrella fabric was ripped clean off his body, leaving only its two ends still anchored to the beacon block.

Qin Yun was instantly drenched head-to-toe by wind and seawater.

"Fuck!"

Qin Yun cursed, buried his head, then slightly adjusted his left hand—the drone's lens instantly pivoted to face him.

"Brothers, I've spotted light in the distance—the storm's almost over…嘶…"

Suddenly, Qin Yun cried out—his left arm had been sliced open by some unknown object, a gash four or five centimeters long, blood gushing out.

This moment was fully captured by the lens.

"Holy shit, what the hell was that? How did Bro Qin get hurt?"

"Shit, getting hurt here is deadly."

"Terrifying—how the hell did he get hurt out of nowhere?"

Everyone was baffled.

Qin Yun glanced at the wound, then turned his head back: "Probably scraped by shellfish in the waves."

As he spoke, the gale gradually weakened, the waves calmed, distant skies pushed back the overhead clouds, and sunlight once again fell upon Qin Yun's head.

At this moment, he was on one side of the beacon block—it had tipped over.

He swiftly dove into the sea, righted the beacon block, then climbed back atop and began inventorying supplies.

"Good—everything's still here. But my arm's cut—I need to stop the bleeding fast, or the blood will attract sharks. And seawater will infect the wound."

Qin Yun spoke with calm detachment. He immediately rebuilt the distiller, cut a strip from the umbrella fabric. The bait bucket was already full of rainwater—he took some to rinse the wound, then tightly bandaged it with the cloth strip.

He stared at the sea now restored to calm, finding it hard to believe the scene before him and the one just moments ago were the same place.

"On the sea, storms can strike anytime. But storms are also opportunities—at least now I've got enough freshwater in this bucket to last me a long time."

"Phew… That had me on edge the whole time."

"Bro Qin is legendary—he made it through unscathed."

"Xiao Kele gifted the streamer ten Carnival Tokens—Bro Qin is as chill as ever."

"Xia Xiaoxing gifted the streamer ten Carnival Tokens—anyone else would've been fish food by now."

"…"

The livestream gifts flooded in so thickly they nearly obscured the screen—uninterrupted for a full ten minutes.

Qin Yun gave a brief thanks, then began pulling the umbrella fabric back into place. Though it wouldn't stand upright anymore, at least it could shield him from the sun—still useful.

As he cleaned up and restored his shelter, the blood spilled into the sea gradually diluted—several kilometers away, a colossal creature suddenly turned its body, flicked its tail, and vanished swiftly.