Chapter 236: Extreme Maneuver at Thirteen Thousand Meters

"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 Brother Qin wants to do a pinpoint jump straight into the Black Throat Abyss."

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

"Insane, so insane. Thrilling, so thrilling."

"If Brother Qin pulls this off, it'll be an unparalleled feat."

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

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

At thirteen thousand meters, even with full gear, the unavoidable difficulties still exist.

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

Also, atmospheric pressure at high altitude is extremely low; even with protective gear, internal organs, Lu Qiang, and eyeballs will still be affected by the low pressure. An ordinary person exposed to this environment would likely pass out immediately.

Moreover, jet streams at ten thousand meters are normal—wind directions above and below by hundreds of meters are completely opposite. The entire body gets swept up and flung sideways—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 restraints of extreme cold-induced stiffness, low-pressure swelling and pain, restricted breathing, slowed movements, and chaotic air currents. This difficulty is absolutely beyond what an ordinary person could overcome.

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.

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

He couldn't help shaking his head.

"Yeah, Brother Qin," Nie Jun added beside him. "There's no need to challenge 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."

After saying that, without waiting for them to say more, he took Su Huan and left.

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

All the advice from others meant less than Su Huan's single phrase, "waiting for you." He squeezed her soft hand tighter and smiled: "Yeah, I know what I'm doing."

"Fuck, we can't see the footage, but we can hear the sounds."

"I'm still single, wuwuwu."

"That's enough—throw the lovebirds into a pig cage."

"Hahahaha."

Seeing the comments on the screen, Su Huan's face flushed red, slightly embarrassed. But Qin Yun, a seasoned veteran, said smugly: "What can I do? My girlfriend is not only beautiful and virtuous, but also caring."

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

Everyone wanted to see how far off the bullseye he'd land. This challenge was purely for entertainment—everyone knew that under blindfold, hitting the target was impossible; during a three-thousand-meter freefall, one loses all sense of distance and can't judge accurately.

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

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 greater challenge: he'd open his parachute at six thousand meters, while the aircraft was positioned forty-five kilometers away from the target. For athletes, precise control was vital.

Most importantly, to complete such a long horizontal glide, one must maintain altitude as much as possible—descending too much would accelerate descent under gravity, making failure nearly inevitable.

The challenge began immediately: as Hugo exited the cabin, the helicopter rapidly ascended and left its original position.

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

He'd previously attempted altitude-maintained horizontal glides; at six thousand meters, his best distance was 48 kilometers—but that was without regard to landing position, simply maximizing flight range.

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

Brother Qin watched the big screen with keen interest; even he found it highly challenging.

As time passed, Hugo's challenge proceeded smoothly—he wasn't significantly affected by air 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 the crowd erupted in cheers.

5KM…3KM…1KM…At the instant he reached the target, the big screen flashed the result, and Hugo immediately received the event's message. His heart leapt—he lowered altitude and prepared to land.

Finally, he landed steadily at around fifty meters, completing the challenge. The crowd roared.

Compared to Edmund's entertainment value, Hugo's challenge was undoubtedly 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—it requires a fixed-wing aircraft or a high-altitude manned balloon.

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

For professional aviation-grade hot air balloons, thirteen thousand meters is merely a basic flight altitude; our country completed a manned hot air balloon experiment at 22,000 meters just two years ago.

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

Besides the balloon 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 ascended, the camera switched inside, where Faber looked at Qin Yun fully equipped and began explaining.

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

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

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

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

The once-clear earth had gradually become covered in clouds; as height climbed higher, the cloud layer thickened until only faint outlines of mountains and rivers remained visible.

The Black Throat Abyss? Qin Yun wasn't a man with clairvoyance—he couldn't see anything anymore.

"Fuck, how's Brother Qin gonna do this?"

It looks terrifying.

It's probably going to fail.

Wishing Qin Ye success.

A few minutes later, the altimeter's reading jumped to 13,000 meters, and the hot air balloon slowly stopped ascending.

Even with full equipment, Fabre had already felt his head swelling at six or seven thousand meters. At this altitude now, he felt outright pain—and not just him; all the other staff members felt the same.

Everyone wore masks of agony.

Qin Yun raised a thumb toward the camera, a smile tugging at his lips: "Hello everyone, I'm Qin Yun. I'm currently at 13,000 meters above Saint-Armang, France. Today, I will leap from here, deploy my parachute at 600 meters, and successfully enter the Black Throat Abyss."

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

With that, Qin Yun opened the door and flipped backward, leaping out.

Simultaneously, the hot air balloon rapidly began descending, but drifted sideways slightly to avoid collision.

The production crew gritted their teeth through the pain, focused every ounce of their concentration, and locked their eyes firmly on Qin Yun's figure.

At this moment, on the giant ground screen and in the livestream, everyone saw Qin Yun instantly swept away the moment he left the balloon; it took a full five seconds before he stabilized his form.

Even so, the sudden turbulence up high lurked like an assassin, ready to strike at any moment.