Chapter 231: Tense and Thrilling Semifinals (Support Needed)

The prize guessing was just a sudden idea of mine, a little gift to reward my fans.

I'd already prepared to take a huge loss, since everyone in my livestream has witnessed how I got here step by step—half of them trust me more than I trust myself.

That's why I set the multiplier at 1. 5 and imposed a betting cap.

Otherwise, with all these hidden dragons and tigers in my livestream, I might really get crushed.

But the result was surprising—not too much, but too little. Seven million diamonds, converted to cash, is only 750, 00 yuan—barely a drop in the bucket.

"Brother Qin, that Shalu hit the bullseye on both jumps, and only missed the last one by one centimeter—his skill is close to yours."

"Not just Shalu—Temu's Edru, Britain's Iliya, Cyberpunk's Edmund—these four will definitely make it to the semifinals in Group Eight."

"The other competitors in the groups with these top club athletes are truly screwed."

"Brother Qin can completely suppress all of them—awesome."

Watching Qin Yun livestreaming in the distance, Edru, Iliya, and Edmund gathered together.

"How's it look?" Edru asked, glancing at the two with a casual tone.

"Strong," Iliya said without hesitation.

Edmund's dark skin seemed to gleam in the sunlight as he grinned: "When I get time, I'm going to take a photo with him—I'm a loyal fan of his livestream. Never expected Qin to be this good in skydiving too."

The two gave him a strange look.

Edmund shrugged: "Why are you staring like that? Competing alongside my idol is already an honor."

"I remember your club had a feud with Changkong Club, causing two members to withdraw directly," Edru said, clearly aware of something.

Edmund waved it off: "That was Quincy's business—what's it got to do with me? Besides, Qin clearly just joined this club temporarily—what possible stakes could there be?"

Edru and Iliya were speechless. They dropped the topic and turned their attention elsewhere.

"Do you think Shalu might try to take down Qin?" Edru asked with interest.

Iliya shook his head: "Unlikely. Besides, he's no match for Qin—if he dares to act against Qin, he'll get killed."

"Who said anything about physical action?" Edru frowned. "This is a skydiving competition, not a no-man's-land. I mean—could the Pharaoh possibly order Shalu to deliberately sabotage Qin's score? Remember, the Pharaoh has a history of this."

Iliya: "..."

"Actually possible," Edmund's eyes lit up, then he walked toward Qin Yun. "Wait for me a moment—I'll go warn Qin."

Soon, Edmund appeared beside Qin Yun.

"Qin!"

Qin Yun looked at him and smiled slightly: "Edmund."

"You know me?" Edmund beamed.

"Of course," Qin Yun nodded. "Top athlete from Cyberpunk."

Hearing the word "Cyberpunk," Nie Jun and the others nearby frowned. Especially Fang Yichen and You Jundu—they'd watched Sun Ang and Lu Hao skip this event and had zero fondness for Cyberpunk.

Edmund saw their expressions and shrugged: "Quincy's business has nothing to do with me—don't look at me like that."

Then, ignoring them, he turned to Qin: "Qin, I'm here to warn you—watch out for Shalu. He might deliberately sabotage your score in the semifinals. The Pharaoh did something similar two years ago."

Before Qin Yun could respond, Zeng Luo frowned: "Aren't they afraid of being permanently disqualified?"

"It's not that easy to catch them—they can always claim it was an accident. After all, this is extreme sport—aren't mistakes allowed?"

Everyone realized it made sense.

Qin Yun thanked him: "Thanks for the warning, Edmund—I appreciate it."

"Yeah, Qin, I'm your fan—I still want to see you do a Dingdian jump from ten thousand meters into the Black Throat Pit. Go hard—don't get eliminated in the semifinals."

Watching Edmund's retreating back, Qin Yun turned toward a group of figures in the distance—the Pharaoh Club members.

Just from their glances, he could sense deep hostility toward him. So Edmund's warning wasn't baseless—it was very likely true.

But...

Qin Yun sneered. He wasn't afraid of their tricks—let's see who dies in the end.

As time passed, the five-day preliminary round was over. The semifinal qualifiers for each group were announced—Group Eight had no surprises: Qin Yun, plus Edru and the others.

The other nine groups' slots were almost entirely claimed by top clubs.

Only four or fewer groups had ordinary clubs like Changkong barely squeezing in.

At the Pharaoh Club's hotel, none of the nine members participated in any other events—all nine competed only in Dingdian skydiving. They were spread across five groups, and five advanced to the semifinals.

The Pharaoh Club's coach was a fifty-year-old man named Taral, with a thick beard, a large belly, and glasses.

"I've got a task for you."

Taral scanned the five qualifiers.

"Target the Chinese guy."

The five qualifiers, who'd been slouching, instantly sat up straight. The others also turned to look at Taral.

"Taral, how do we target him?" Raul, the Pharaoh team captain, glared with malice—they had zero fondness for the Chinese.

Taral adjusted his glasses: "The semifinals are divided into five groups, ten per group, top two from each advance. Unless you're incredibly unlucky and don't get drawn in the same group as him, whoever shares a group with him gets this task."

"The task is simple," Taral's face twisted with ill intent. "After he opens his parachute, destroy his main chute."

Everyone gasped—this was outright murder.

Raul had wanted to teach the guy a lesson, but never imagined this method. True, skydivers have main and reserve chutes—destroy the main, and the reserve still ensures a safe landing.

But there's a chance the reserve won't deploy—and then you die.

In other words, Taral wasn't just trying to eliminate Qin from the semifinals—he wanted him dead.

"What? Scared?" Taral sneered. "If you're scared, speak up now—I'll pretend I never said it."

"Not scared!" Shalu's shock slowly turned to excitement. "But you know—jumping from four thousand meters, catching up to him after he opens his chute and destroying it—that's insanely difficult."

"Yeah," Raul tapped the table, frowning. "In the preliminaries, he opened his chute at exactly six hundred meters every time. What if he does the same in the semifinals?"

"Impossible!"

Taral dismissed it outright. "At four thousand meters, twelve hundred meters is the absolute limit—he won't open at six hundred."

Raul insisted: "What if he does? You know how crazy this Chinese guy is."

They'd all watched Qin Yun's livestreams—aside from special circumstances, it was impossible not to admire him.

That reckless, death-defying mindset was pure madness.

Taral frowned: "If he really opens at six hundred meters, then forget it. But..."

His gaze darkened. "But whoever shares a group with him must stick to him like glue—you don't open your chute until he does."

Four-thousand-meter Dingdian skydiving is common in regular skydiving, but never before in Dingdian competitions. Red Bull was the first to turn this height into a formal event—previously, extreme skydiving heights were mostly two to three thousand meters.

Because this wasn't a normal altitude anymore.

At this height, even in daylight, temperatures dropped to minus ten degrees Celsius, not to mention wind speed and oxygen deprivation. Regular skydiving was already hard enough—now add Dingdian precision, and the difficulty skyrocketed.

"Brother Qin, I'm in Group Three, you're in Group Five."

Looking at the draw results on the big screen, Shu Han sighed. If nothing unexpected happened, her semifinal result would be her best.

Qin Yun smiled: "Do your best—don't overthink it."

"Yeah, I know."

Qin Yun looked at the names before and after his own: Raul and Shalu—both from the Pharaoh Club. Especially Raul, a world-renowned skydiver.

His group also included another familiar name—Edru from Temu, another top athlete.

The others: Jackman from the Royal Club, Cort from the Canadian Extreme Club.

The remaining four were lesser-known athletes, even if they came from top clubs—their fame paled in comparison.

Qin Yun glanced at them and ignored them, beginning his preparations.

The semifinals used the combined score of five jumps—seemingly more forgiving, but every single jump was critical; one major mistake could end everything.

The official prediction for four-thousand-meter scores: hitting the target meant passing.

The target at four thousand meters wasn't the same as at two thousand—it was still ten rings, but fifty times larger.

Previously, one ring was one centimeter; now, one ring is fifty centimeters, so ten rings equal five meters. Still, the electronic precision remained accurate to fractions of a millimeter—no significant error possible.

"The competition has begun!"

As a helicopter rapidly ascended, everyone's anticipation surged.

In Qin Yun's livestream, the camera now showed the inside of the helicopter.

All ten skydivers were fully geared up—helmets on, oxygen tanks attached, clothing thickened.

Each was tightly wrapped in layers.

Unlike the preliminaries, this helicopter had a host.

The camera focused on the first skydiver, and the host's voice came through.

"Jiede, confident you'll hit the target?"

Jiede gave a thumbs-up, then leapt out—simple, clean, smooth.

But the next moment, wind surged, and his elegant posture was instantly torn apart.

The host turned to the second: "Ockla, confident you'll hit the target?"

Ockla swallowed hard. Damn it—was the wind over France controlled by someone? Why was it so insane during training?

"I'll try to hit it."

Ockla jumped immediately. As expected, the gale hit him—he lost all control. No matter how precise his stability, nature's power shattered it instantly—he helplessly spun through the air.

Qin Yun watched and told his livestream: "Group One's luck is bad—there's an air current up top. Their chances of hitting the target just dropped sharply."

Jiede, the first jumper, finally regained control after tumbling—but when he checked the target's position, despair set in. He glanced at his altimeter: still three thousand meters above ground, and he was over a kilometer off-target. To correct this, he'd have to open his chute as high as possible.

So at two thousand meters, Jiede opened his chute.