Chapter 236

"Thirteen thousand meters?"

"Holy shit, did I go blind, or did Red Bull mess up? This height is higher than the world record for high-altitude skydiving."

"Fuck, the problem is Qin Yun wants to make a pinpoint jump straight into the Black Throat Pit."

"Shouldn't the parachute open at six hundred meters? Fuck, this would scare anyone to death."

"Insane, totally insane. Thrilling, incredibly thrilling."

"If Qin Yun pulls this off, it'll be an unprecedented feat."

Not just the livestream viewers—even the other clubs competing as contestants were stunned silent.

Ordinary people might not grasp the difficulty, but as professional athletes, they knew it all too well.

At thirteen thousand meters, even with full gear, the unavoidable challenges still remain.

For instance, on a physical level, even with top-tier cold-weather gear, the temperature at thirteen thousand meters is below -50°C; clothing cannot fully block such extreme cold. The entire body will still freeze into muscle stiffness—inevitable.

Also, atmospheric pressure is extremely low. Even with protective gear, internal organs, Lu Qiang, and eyeballs still suffer from low-pressure effects; an ordinary person exposed to this environment would likely pass out immediately.

Moreover, jet streams at ten thousand meters are constant, with wind directions completely opposite just hundreds of meters above or below. The entire body gets swept sideways, violently tossed about—this is perfectly normal. So attempting a pinpoint jump at this altitude, with no visibility and no body control, raises the difficulty geometrically.

In short, even with full gear, one must still complete a pinpoint landing while enduring the combined constraints of extreme cold-induced stiffness, low-pressure swelling and pain, restricted breathing, slowed movements, and chaotic winds—this difficulty is absolutely beyond ordinary human capability.

Everyone from Changkong Club was frantic.

When Qin Yun returned, Zeng Luo rushed up to ask—unfortunately, the result was the same. The marker on the big screen was correct; it matched exactly what Qin Yun intended to perform.

"Qin Ye, this is too dangerous," Zeng Luo said, his expression unusually tense. "And too extreme. If the parachute opened a bit higher, I think it might be possible for you—but at this height…"

He shook his head.

"Yeah, Qin Ye," Nie Jun added, urging him. "There's no need to push such an extreme limit."

Qin Yun smiled: "Don't worry, I know my limits. If it's not doable, I'll open the chute early."

Without waiting for them to say more, he grabbed Su Huan and walked away.

Su Huan gripped Qin Yun's hand tightly and whispered: "Don't be reckless—I'm still waiting for you."

All their warnings meant less than Su Huan's single phrase, "waiting for you." He squeezed her soft hand and smiled: "Yeah, I know."

"Fuck, we can't see the visuals, but we can hear the audio."

"I'm still single, uuuuuu."

"Enough already, anyone showing off affection deserves to be dunked in a pig cage."

"Hahahaha."

Seeing the comments on the screen, Su Huan blushed, embarrassed. But Qin Yun, a seasoned veteran, said smugly: "What can I do? My girlfriend's beautiful, virtuous, and caring."

…

In the afternoon, Edmund was the first to perform—his three-thousand-meter blind pinpoint skydive was wildly creative.

Everyone wanted to see how far off the bullseye he'd land. The challenge was purely for entertainment, since everyone knew that under blindfold, hitting the target was impossible; during a three-thousand-meter freefall, distance perception vanishes entirely—how could you judge accurately?

And indeed, once Edmund had his eyes covered and leapt from the cabin, he veered off course immediately.

Everyone watched him drift, drift, drift—until he finally landed in a distant small lake, and laughter erupted across the sky.

Edmund wasn't embarrassed—it was meant to be fun.

Soon, it was Hugo's turn. His performance carried heavier stakes: he'd open his parachute at six thousand meters, while the aircraft was forty-five kilometers from the target. For athletes, precise control was vital.

Most importantly, to complete such a long lateral glide, he had to maintain altitude as much as possible. If he descended too much, gravity would accelerate him further, making failure nearly inevitable.

The challenge began immediately: as Hugo exited the cabin, the helicopter rapidly ascended and moved away to avoid collision.

Then his parachute deployed. Hugo controlled the risers with both hands, steering toward the target. This challenge involved both distance and precise landing point.

He'd previously attempted altitude-preserving lateral glides; at six thousand meters, his best distance was 48 kilometers—but that was without caring about the landing point, only maximizing flight range.

Now, he had to fly forty-five kilometers and still land precisely on target—difficulty was obvious.

Qin Yun watched the big screen with keen interest—even he found it highly challenging.

As time passed, Hugo's challenge went smoothly; he wasn't significantly affected by wind currents, moving steadily along a straight line toward his destination.

When he crossed thirty kilometers, his altitude was under fifteen hundred meters.

Soon, Hugo's figure appeared in the spectators' view—and cheers erupted.

Five kilometers… three kilometers… one kilometer… the instant he reached the target, the big screen flashed the confirmation, and Hugo received the official message in his ear. His heart leapt—he immediately lowered altitude, preparing to land.

Finally, he landed steadily on a spot roughly fifty meters from the target, completing the challenge. The crowd roared.

Compared to Edmund's entertainment value, Hugo's challenge was undeniably more spectacular.

But now came the main event of the exhibition—everyone's attention turned to Qin Yun. The official cameras switched to him, and host Faber's passionate voice echoed across the venue.

To reach thirteen thousand meters, ordinary helicopters won't do—you need a fixed-wing aircraft or a high-altitude manned balloon.

Red Bull had prepared a high-altitude manned balloon—in plain terms, a hot air balloon.

For professional aviation-grade hot air balloons, thirteen thousand meters is just a basic flight altitude; our country completed a manned hot air balloon experiment at 22, 00 meters just two years ago.

And compared to planes, hot air balloons are more stable and quieter; Qin Yun standing inside felt no different than standing on flat ground.

Besides the balloon's operators, there was also a Red Bull official filming crew and host Faber, who would follow him after he left the balloon to handle long-distance recording.

As the balloon rose, the camera switched inside. Faber, watching Qin Yun fully geared up, began explaining.

"Everyone knows temperature drops six degrees per thousand meters. At thirteen thousand meters today, it's -56°C, and the pressure is extremely low—it's a huge test for me. If I pass out, I hope you won't blame me."

"Hahahaha, Faber, don't worry—when you pass out, there'll be a camera locked on you the whole time."

Faber sighed: "Never thought you'd be like this, Qin."

As altitude increased, the external cameras transmitted the footage to the big screen.

The once-clear earth below had gradually been covered by clouds. As height climbed, the cloud layer thickened—eventually, only faint outlines of mountains and rivers remained visible.

The Black Throat Pit? Qin Yun wasn't a man with divine sight—he couldn't see a thing.

"Fuck, how's Qin Ye going to do this?"

"Just looking at it scares me."

"He'll probably fail."

"Wish Qin Ye success."

Minutes later, the altimeter hit 13, 00 meters. The balloon slowly stopped ascending.

Even with full gear, Faber had felt his head swell at six or seven thousand meters. At this altitude, he felt real pain. And not just him—every crew member did.

Everyone wore expressions of agony.

Qin Yun gave the camera a thumbs-up, smiling: "Hello everyone, I'm Qin Yun. I'm currently at 13, 00 meters above Saint-Armand, France. Today, I'll leap from here, open my parachute at six hundred meters, and land precisely inside the Black Throat Pit."

"This altitude is already unbearable for ordinary people, so I won't waste time—I'm ready to go!"

Saying that, Qin Yun opened the door and leaped backward out.

Simultaneously, the balloon rapidly descended, veering sideways slightly to avoid collision.

The filming crew gritted their teeth, focused entirely, locking their cameras firmly on Qin Yun's figure.

On the ground, on the big screen, in the livestream—everyone saw Qin Yun instantly swept away the moment he left the balloon. It took five full seconds before he stabilized his body.

Even so, the sudden, unpredictable turbulence of the upper atmosphere lurked like an assassin—ready to strike at any moment.