Chapter 256: Extreme Return (Seeking Support)

When the live stream's depth reading reached 350 meters, no one cheered.

Because at this very moment, a great crisis loomed over Qin Yun—compared to the live challenge, they cared more about how Qin Yun would break through this deadlock.

"I suddenly got scared—damn, my heart was pounding like a drum."

"Yeah, I'm freaking out—hope Brother Qin is okay."

"Brother Qin probably hasn't switched to the backup yet."

"This dive has been anything but smooth from start to finish; most people would've quit after the guide rope snapped, let alone all the other hazards that followed."

Upon completing the check-in task, Qin Yun's mind was flooded with techniques related to drawing.

Though he was already highly skilled at drawing, he now felt as if it had become instinct—he could sketch anything he wanted with just a pen, anytime, anywhere. Not only did he master techniques from every school, but he also excelled at manga, traditional Chinese painting, and oil painting. More importantly, these techniques came bundled with other knowledge.

It was precisely this knowledge that formed the foundation of his master-level drawing skill.

For instance: geometric structure, natural object structure, human anatomy, animal anatomy, perspective, light and shadow, material texture, composition—these were all supplementary skills, and it was mastering them that elevated his drawing to a master level.

Only after acquiring this master-level drawing skill did Qin Yun realize that drawing itself was merely skin-deep; the supplementary knowledge was the core.

But what do I even need drawing skills for?

Draw for viewers in the live stream? Switch careers and sell paintings?

He now knew the system's skill rewards were completely unpredictable—anything could appear. So the appearance of drawing skills wasn't surprising. At least this skill seemed more reliable than music composition.

The CCR rebreather beside his ear continued to hiss, the oxygen partial pressure rising rapidly, nearing its critical limit.

His hand touched the switch for the backup air source—he only needed to flick it to immediately switch over.

Qin Yun began ascending, and his voice echoed through the live stream.

"CCR stands for Closed-Circuit Rebreather. It can operate for long periods by recycling gas: exhaled gas passes through a carbon dioxide scrubber, receives a small oxygen replenishment, then is rebreathed—extremely low gas consumption."

"But once switched to the backup source, it becomes an open-circuit tank—every breath is expelled directly into the water, no recycling at all. Gas consumption is ten times higher than CCR. Even at the lowest setting, I can only last an hour."

Hearing Qin Yun's explanation, viewers suddenly understood.

At the same time, their tension intensified.

An hour? Remember, Qin Yun had spent over five hours to reach this record-breaking depth—from descent to now. Even if returning the same way saved time, it couldn't possibly save fivefold.

At this moment, Qin Yun's mental 3D map of the underground river already showed a complete route—except for one gap: the collapsed passage. His original plan to exit through other underground river outlets had now been completely shattered.

He had no time left for that!

And he still had to drag Fabio's body back—making things even more urgent.

But the most critical issue wasn't any of that—it was that ascending from such extreme depth required decompression. Ascending without decompression was pure suicide.

So he had to stop periodically to decompress—time was running out even faster.

Qin Yun rapidly ascended thirty meters, and immediately felt something wrong—he halted, his superior physical condition quickly adjusting internal pressure.

For an ordinary person, a sudden pressure drop would require a long stop—but Qin Yun was different; his physical condition allowed him to balance internal and external pressure in an extremely short time.

In less than two minutes, he completed the pressure adjustment—and at that moment, the CCR finally reached its limit.

"My rebreather has reached its limit—I must switch to the backup air source. I'll try not to speak further from now on; please understand."

After speaking, Qin Yun pressed the backup air source switch—the rebreather instantly switched over.

Simultaneously, on the live stream screen, a countdown timer appeared for the air tank.

59: 9… 59: 8…

This countdown, like a life timer, stirred uncontrollable tension in everyone.

Su Huan clenched his fists tightly, his nails nearly digging into his skin, his worry plain in his eyes, his breathing quickened.

Not just him—all the staff in the pit were now tense, every face grim.

"Damn, this is making me so nervous."

"I'm terrified."

"Hope nothing happens."

"Hahaha, now the demon's finally dead."

"Serves him right!"

In the overseas comment section, those PETA fanatics reappeared, shouting wildly, instantly sparking a wave of online arguments.

After confirming his body was fine, Qin Yun immediately continued ascending.

After spending over ten minutes, he finally emerged outside the third layer of the maze. The complex terrain—dense waterways, countless caves—made viewers' scalps tingle.

"Damn, does Brother Qin remember the way back?"

"If he forgets, he's done for—no one can save him now."

"He'll be fine—Brother Qin's the king of reckless stunts."

Qin Yun followed his original route back, weaving through the caves, never hesitating at any fork—as if everything was crystal clear—until he floated before the collapsed cave entrance.

He stabilized and adjusted his internal pressure, stared at the collapsed passage ahead, and said: "I need to pick another waterway—hope it works."

After speaking, he unfastened his tank and chose the nearest passage to the collapsed area, diving in.

The complexity inside was identical—every time he emerged from a cave entrance, he faced a new choice. Each choice led to a different outcome.

Qin Yun spent over twenty minutes here before finally returning to the muddy riverbed.

The depth gauge now read: 235 meters.

Meaning, in just half an hour, he had ascended 120 meters. It sounds like a lot—but the tank only had half an hour left. Even if everything went smoothly, he couldn't possibly ascend another 235 meters, given all the horizontal detours.

"Damn, my palms are sweating."

"I remember this is where the foreigner's body is—Brother Qin, just leave it."

"Yeah, dragging a corpse will make things worse."

"I agree—your life comes first. We can always come back later."

Qin Yun quickly reached Fabio's body, unfastened the securing clips, grabbed a rope tied to the back of the corpse, and began ascending.

Adding a hundred pounds slowed him down, but it was still manageable.

Qin Yun ascended rapidly along the crack, and when he reached the opening, he stopped to relieve pressure.

At this moment, the live stream countdown read: 27: 8.

After two minutes of adjustment, Qin Yun shot forward at full speed, racing against time.

But distance was distance, speed was speed—if laid out on paper, it was obvious: Qin Yun could not possibly reach the surface before the tank ran out.

Wei Heng and Lu Sicheng felt hopeless. They glanced at the woman beside them, her face pale as paper, their own pressure immense.

…

When the depth gauge read 58 meters, Qin Yun was extremely close to the pit opening.

But at that moment, the countdown hit zero—and the rebreather emitted a sharp "pssssss" sound. Qin Yun had anticipated this—he took a deep breath, pressed the latch, and discarded the tank right there.

"Holy shit, what now? No oxygen left."

"Done. Done. Totally done."

"Only 58 meters left—can Brother Qin hold on?"

"I remember—he survived in freezing water during his wilderness survival episode. This water's warmer—he should last longer."

"Longer how? Ten minutes? Twenty?"

Qin Yun had never tested his own limits—but even at just 58 meters, if he ascended straight up, he'd reach the surface quickly. But the horizontal distance was hundreds of meters, with constant undercurrents and blocked vision—time multiplied geometrically.

Now, Qin Yun couldn't even speak—he could only push Fabio's body with one hand and kick his limbs rapidly forward.

At this moment, of the ten drones, only five remained—five had been destroyed or lost during the stream.

"Brother Qin, hurry! Faster!"

"Drop the corpse—why keep dragging it?"

"Damn, I'm gonna die watching this."

"Fuck, fuck!"

"BoLangGe gifted the streamer 30 Carnival Tokens—Brother Qin, hold on!"

"Chen…"

The live stream's popularity had exploded—far surpassing the second-place streamer by an unimaginable margin. Real-time viewers on Douyin reached 35 million—this level of popularity would humble even the biggest stars.

Not to mention YouTube, TikTok, and Twitch—combined viewership across all four platforms neared 90 million, almost hitting 100 million.

Soon, ten minutes passed quietly—Qin Yun continued advancing steadily.

But viewers outside the stream were holding their breath.

…

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