Chapter 235

The first jump, everyone prepared themselves for adaptation.

But reality made everyone feel the uncontrollability of six thousand meters; without full gear, the extreme altitude, temperature, and oxygen alone could be enough to drive one to despair.

The first to land was Winster of France's Sky Club, touching down far from the target point; staff, prepared in advance, quickly measured using electronic locking devices. Soon, his score appeared on the big screen.

France's Sky Club, Winster, first jump score: 32. 8 meters.

This score isn't bad—after all, the off-target zone in the finals is one hundred meters; as long as you don't miss the target, it's a passing score.

Then came Simon of Austria's Red Bull, whose score wasn't better than Winster's, even worse, at 38. 9 meters.

Since it wasn't electronically detected, all scores on the big screen were delayed; spectators on-site or in the livestream could only wait for official announcements to learn results quickly.

Subsequent scores clustered around thirty meters; the best was Hugo of the Imperial Club, who landed at fifteen meters.

At this point, only Qin Yun and TEMU's Nathan remained airborne.

As Nathan descended, his distance from the target was obvious to anyone with eyes. The issue was Qin Yun—controlled by his parachute, he rapidly closed in on the target, as if aiming to land directly on it in his first jump.

Almost simultaneously, as Nathan touched ground, Qin Yun's feet made contact with the earth.

Qin Yun glanced at the target ahead and knew his score.

"China Changkong Club, Qin Yun, first jump score: 2. 2 meters."

The moment the score appeared, the crowd and livestream erupted—uncontested, record-shattering lead, over ten meters ahead of Hugo; even someone with no knowledge of the sport knew bridging that gap was nearly impossible.

Seeing this score, all competitors couldn't help but smile bitterly.

Hugo muttered: "Guess I'm fighting for second place now."

"Yay… Lord Qin, you're the king!"

You Jundu and other Changkong Club athletes burst into cheers.

Nie Jun and Jiang Shuangxing embraced excitedly; Zeng Luo's grin threatened to show his teeth.

Host Fabre's eyes lit up; through the mic, he broadcast to the livestream: "My villa in Hawaii's property title… seems my name has quietly changed to Qin's."

The crowd roared with laughter.

In truth, Qin Yun didn't need to jump at all if he weren't chasing the target—he could've just waited for others. But clearly, whether for his bet with Fabre or the livestream audience, he wouldn't skip it.

As the two planes took off again, the second jump officially began.

This time, Qin Yun gave no other competitors a chance; when he landed precisely on the target, everyone knew the champion of the first Red Bull Cup Extreme Precision Parachuting had been crowned.

He was from China's Changkong Club. His name was Qin Yun.

This first place was unquestionable—even if the next competitor also landed on target, they couldn't steal the title unless their first jump surpassed Qin Yun's. Otherwise, the championship was locked.

But just look at everyone's second jump scores—you'd see how impossibly hard it was to hit the target.

Hugo, who had the best first jump, did worse on the second: only 15. 8 meters.

Five consecutive jumps passed without anyone entering the ten-meter zone.

Finally, on his sixth jump, Hugo landed at 7. 2 meters and chose to lock in that score.

"Qin, you're not human."

Walking up to Qin Yun, Hugo sighed.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Qin Yun shrugged, his gaze fixed on the sky, watching the other competitors.

After a while, more competitors locked their scores and came over to join them as spectators.

Soon, only one athlete remained airborne: Black, the solo entrant from the Czech Republic.

His best score so far was 56 meters—a gap so wide it was obvious. Yet he hadn't given up; he was fully immersed in the joy of skydiving.

As for scores, Black clearly no longer cared.

On his eleventh jump, Black scored 51 meters. This was his final jump; as his figure leapt from the plane, every eye turned to him.

For the first time, he felt the spotlight.

His final score… 48 meters—the first time he entered the fifty-meter zone.

When he detached his parachute and walked back onto the field, he was met with endless cheers and applause, leaving him stunned.

But on the other hand, everyone was so excited because the award ceremony was finally coming.

After the ceremony, the long-awaited exhibition match would begin.

Remember, Qin Yun's exhibition event was a ten-thousand-meter high-altitude precision skydive into the Black Throat Abyss.

Red Bull was confident in Qin Yun—they'd already set up cameras around the Black Throat Abyss, from the rim to the bottom, ready to capture every moment if he successfully entered.

At the award ceremony, amid stirring drumbeats, several elders placed a wreath and trophy on Qin Yun.

Then came interviews, photos, group shots—Qin Yun's name and image spread rapidly across global media.

Thus, the first event of the first Red Bull Cup Extreme Precision Parachuting officially ended. Tomorrow would bring other events, but compared to this one, the others felt more like entertainment than competition.

*Click!

The top ten posed for a group photo; Red Bull's organizing committee approached Qin Yun, Hugo, and Edmund.

They were the top three finalists.

"For the exhibition match this afternoon, you must now confirm your challenge events."

Edmund said: "I challenge three-thousand-meter blind navigation precision landing."

Staff froze, confused.

Edmund explained: "Full visual obstruction throughout—land by body sensation alone."

The difficulty was immense. Qin Yun laughed: "If you land on target with that, you can brag for life."

"Hahahaha, that's exactly what I thought."

Hugo thought a moment, then said: "I'll challenge six-thousand-meter opening altitude, completing a 45-kilometer horizontal drift."

Staff found this equally insane but faithfully recorded it, then turned to Qin Yun.

Though everyone knew Qin Yun's event was ten-thousand-meter precision skydiving, they still needed him to say it aloud.

But…

Qin Yun said: "I challenge a thirteen-thousand-meter high-altitude precision skydive, deploying my parachute at six hundred meters and landing in the Black Throat Abyss."

"Alright, that… wait, how many meters?"

Staff snapped his head up, staring at him in disbelief.

"Twelve thousand eight hundred and eight meters."

"I asked for your opening altitude."

"Six hundred meters."

"OMG, Qin, do you know what you're saying?" Staff's composure shattered, visibly shaken.

Not just him—Edmund and Hugo beside him were stunned.

Recovering, Hugo urgently advised: "Qin, altitude isn't the issue, but opening at six hundred meters is extreme."

"Yes, Qin, think carefully, be cautious," Edmund added.

Qin Yun smiled: "You're professionals—you know human freefall reaches terminal velocity at a certain limit. If I can open at six hundred meters at six thousand, I can do it at ten thousand too."

"The logic holds," Hugo knew that well, but real experience differed: "Still, I urge you to reconsider."

Qin Yun didn't mention that six hundred meters was equivalent to opening at two hundred meters above ground—otherwise, the committee would never approve; it was literally playing with death.

Extreme challenges aren't meant to be this extreme!

Glancing at the logo on the staff's uniform, Qin Yun suddenly remembered—Red Bull might actually allow it.

After the others finished speaking, the staff said: "Qin, at ten thousand meters, you won't see the Black Throat Abyss. For a long stretch after leaving the cabin, you'll be flying blind. By the time you spot it, you may already be far off course."

"No problem. The exhibition is about performance, isn't it?" Qin Yun patted his shoulder. "Don't worry—I value my life too much to gamble it. If I succeed, great. If not, I just fail the challenge."

They realized—he was right. As long as he wasn't forcing it, failure meant nothing; he'd already proven himself. No need to prove it again through one exhibition. Nothing lost.

Indeed, nothing was lost—for Qin Yun, the only cost of failure was one random system reward.

The staff then submitted the exhibition event entries.

When the big screen displayed all three challenges, everyone erupted in excitement.

Whether Edmund's blind precision jump or Hugo's high-altitude drift, both were thrilling, eye-catching. But Qin Yun's—ten thousand meters, precisely 12, 08 meters, with an opening altitude added—reignited the crowd's adrenaline, shattering their calm.