Chapter 303

Looking again, the comment was instantly refreshed and overwritten; Qin Yun scrolled up, carefully examining the name on the comment—a foreigner’s English name he couldn’t decipher.

TikTok is almost entirely foreign users; the comment section, like YouTube and Twitch, is mostly in English, with Chinese being rare.

So when Chinese does appear, it stands out.

This random, out-of-context comment gave him a slight pang of concern, but he didn’t really care—maybe it was just a joke?

He stared at the screen for a while, but the user never posted another comment.

He silently shook his head and kept walking.

When he spotted a baobab tree in the distance, leafless except for clusters of fruit hanging from its branches, a smile involuntarily spread across his face.

“Lucky break—just as my destination nears and the livestream ends, I’ve encountered another Tree of Life.”

Hearing the familiar Chinese from the livestream, Jiang Xia, who had just survived the ordeal, felt despair; she didn’t know if Qin Ye had seen it, and even if he had, she didn’t think he’d do anything—after all, just a few words, he probably thought it was a joke.

At that moment, a Black man walked into the cave, holding a phone—it was Jiang Xia’s.

The Black man had a menacing face, wore sloppy clothes, and carried an AK slung across his chest.

He swiped on the screen, found a contact, then held the phone up to Jiang Xia: “Is this your mom?”

Jiang Xia looked, nodded, her face filled with fear: “Yes!”

“Don’t play any tricks. Call your family right now. Once the 200,000 US dollars arrives in the account, we’ll let you go immediately.”

(Don’t play any tricks. Call your family right now. Once the 200,000 US dollars arrives in the account, we’ll let you go immediately.)

Shuowan ， Heirenanxialetonghuajian ， Ranhouyouanxiamianti 。

……

Beneath the baobab tree, many wild animals had gathered, mostly baboons.

These baboons weren’t as aggressive as imagined; they paid little attention to the other wild animals surrounding them, and even when Qin Yun appeared, they merely glanced at him briefly before returning to their own business, ignoring him entirely.

The drone circled the baobab tree once, and Qin Yun smiled: “Friends, time flies—eighteen days have passed in the blink of an eye.”

“Over these eighteen days, we set off from Ndutu Lake, arrived safely at Serenella, and rescued Professor Momboma and a few others along the way. From Serenella, we traveled to the Western Corridor, rescued two African elephants—a large one and a small one—and then reached the Malahe River, where we witnessed the tragic, majestic Crossing of Heaven.”

“Now, I stand at the northern triangle of the Maasai Mara, over five hundred kilometers from our starting point. These eighteen days have been full of trials, ups and downs—even twice I’ve clashed Shengsi with spotted hyenas.”

Hearing Qin Yun mention his battles with spotted hyenas, viewers couldn’t help but laugh.

“Spotted hyenas: Have some dignity. We’re the ones who died. You’re the one who lived.”

“Hahaha, definitely a Shengsi conflict.”

Qin Yun gazed into the distance and continued: “These eighteen days weren’t just a thousand-kilometer trek—they were a trial of coexisting with wild creatures and battling the dangers of nature. Along the way, I witnessed the gentle harmony of the grassland’s myriad lives, and faced the brutal reality of wilderness survival.”

“Five hundred kilometers of sleeping under the open sky, eighteen days of relentless travel—I’ve seen herds of beasts gather and narrowly escaped death. Friends, it’s time to say goodbye again. I’m Qin Yun, from China. Stay tuned for the next livestream—I’ll randomly select five fans from around the world to join me.”

“That’s it for this livestream. Goodbye, and may all go well for you.”

As he spoke, the drone rose swiftly, growing higher and higher until his figure shrank to the size of an ant.

Seeing this, the livestream’s comments and gifts surged to a final peak.

“Looking forward! Looking forward!”

“I hope I get picked.”

“Won’t Qin Ye rig the draw?”

“Why would he? Qin Ye’s a massive streamer—he doesn’t care who he brings along, and he’s definitely doing the draw live.”

As the grassland scenery faded from the livestream, all four channels simultaneously displayed “Host has gone offline”—Qin Yun’s livestream had officially ended.

He sat beneath the baobab tree, plunged his knife into the trunk, dug twice, then placed his canteen against the opening—soon, it was filled to the brim with water.

Sipping the natural drink, Qin Yun held the returning drone in his hand, tapped the screen, and opened the playback interface.

He remembered the exact time, so he quickly found the spot where the comment had appeared.

“Help, Garissa, Bour-Algi, help!”

Garissa—he knew that. It was a city in northeastern Kenya, quite remote. Beyond that, he knew nothing, only that it had a hot, arid desert climate, with average daytime temperatures above 33°C year-round.

He only knew about the city because it suffered armed attacks and kidnappings every year—it wasn’t considered safe.

The drone was specialized; though connected to the internet, it only supported a few livestreaming apps and had no other software installed—he could only search using the livestreaming apps.

A quick search revealed that Bour-Algi referred to the giraffe conservation area along the Glacial Highway on the Tana River—at least seven hundred kilometers from his current location.

“Joke or real?”

Honestly, Qin Yun couldn’t tell—such a simple message, who knew what it meant?

“Forget it. First, head to Nairobi and contact Su Huan.”

Shaking his head, Qin Yun summoned the system panel, stared at the check-in reward, and silently whispered, “Claim.”

Instantly, Qin Yun’s body jerked uncontrollably—a warm, yet dominant current erupted violently from his spine, surging through every limb and vein. Immediately, his muscles felt a dense, aching tearing sensation; an unbearable, inexplicable agony erupted from every inch of his body.

“Holy shit!”

Qin Yun’s face changed instantly.

Normal human muscle fibers are thick, loose, and full of gaps—limited endurance, extremely low explosive potential. But Qin Yun, through repeated system enhancements, had long since become inhuman. Yet now, his muscle fibers were being disassembled, melted, and restructured by an invisible force; a faint, visible warmth radiated from his skin.

Deep beneath his skin, in places he couldn’t feel, once-relaxed, coarse muscle bundles compressed, stretched, intertwined, and layered. Tens of thousands of muscle fibers tightened at speeds invisible to the eye.

Countless layers of micro-sensations—fractures, repairs, sutures—accumulated across his entire torso, shoulders, back, chest, abdomen, limbs, even his skull wasn’t spared.

This force surged through his meridians and blood vessels like molten lava, bringing overwhelming pain.

“Ssshh… so painful!”

Even with his willpower, he found it hard to endure—how intense the pain must be.

A normal person would have passed out instantly.

As time passed, if one looked closely, Qin Yun’s entire skin surface still trembled. But as his muscle fibers reshaped, his figure actually shrank slightly, his muscle girth appearing slimmer.

His body contours and posture lines became more balanced.

Only Qin Yun knew that inside his body, everything had been turned upside down.

Every muscle fiber’s density and resilience had shattered human physiological limits. But it wasn’t just that—in the instant of muscle fiber restructuring, his tendons and bones changed too; his entire skeleton, joints, and fascia were forcibly stretched and reinforced.

The aching, searing pain in his bone seams intertwined with the tearing agony of his muscles—he clenched his teeth, trembling all over.

An hour passed before the muscle fiber restructuring ended. He slowly rose from the ground, drenched in sweat.

He clenched his fist, felt the changes in his body, and his eyes widened in shock.

“What the hell? This is possible?”

So far, the three non-skill rewards were: Sherpas’ Adaptation, Peak Human Condition, and Overclocking—all extraordinary, but compared to this new [High-Density Muscle Fiber Explosive Body], they were insignificant.

“Am I even human anymore?”

Qin Yun bared his teeth, thinking this was insane.

But after careful sensing, he felt it wasn’t that extreme—this reward hadn’t fundamentally altered his human structure; it had only evolved his muscle fiber composition, greatly increasing his explosive power, carrying capacity, and strength.

“Boom!”

He punched the ground—immediately, a crater formed.

“This power… still not ton-level, but extremely close.”

Qin Yun whistled in disbelief—this terrifying strength, if unleashed in combat, could kill a man with a single punch. Too terrifying.