Chapter 62: Xiong Da and Xiong Er

The raft was crude, but sturdy, and he controlled his center of gravity effortlessly, standing on it with evident ease.

But after a while, he couldn’t hold out anymore and sat down, facing the wind, occasionally feeling the spray on his face—thankfully it was daytime and the temperature was tolerable; at night, the water would be cold enough to raise goosebumps.

“I just checked the time—it’s been less than half an hour, but we’ve drifted at least twenty kilometers. If we’d walked, that’d take four hours. Now I’ve only spent half an hour.”

“And look—hasn’t the current gotten much faster? The river’s widened too. Lucky I chose a birch wood raft; if I’d used any other driftwood, it’d have sunk by now.”

As Qin Yun spoke, he kept watching the river ahead, wary of hidden rocks.

“This Titanic’s pretty sturdy—still holding together after all this time. Poor rating.”

“The host looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

“Qin Ye is drifting—awesome.”

At that moment, Qin Yun raised the drone’s secondary unit, steering it forward to scout ahead—just in case of submerged rocks or other dangers ahead.

Just five minutes after launching the drone, a massive shape appeared in the river within its feed.

The drone had already flown past, but instantly reversed, locking its lens onto the object in the frame.

“Holy shit… Host, stop! It’s Xiong Da and Xiong Er.”

“We’re screwed—drifting and we run into bears? Looks like brown bears. Huge.”

“Host, run! We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!”

“Polang’s gift: five Carnival tokens—Qin Ye, be careful.”

“Fengliu’s gift: five Carnival tokens—Qin Ye, danger ahead.”

Qin Yun ignored their gifts, leaping to his feet, staring at the screen, face grim.

“Friends, my luck’s not good—two predatory brown bears ahead. Their size suggests the larger one’s a female, the smaller her cub. But even the cub’s body length is likely 1.5 meters, nearly 200 kilograms. The big one, standing upright, probably reaches 2.5 meters and weighs over 400 kilograms.”

“Facing such apex predators, I have no options but to flee. But the river’s too swift—if I jump in, the bears will spot me and I won’t escape. So I’ve decided…”

Qin Yun’s gaze was calm; though serious, his expression showed no trace of panic.

The viewers who heard him grew restless.

“Holy shit—is Qin Ye gonna feed the bears?”

“Host’s clearly going for a suicide run.”

“We’re done—stream’s ending. Gotta record now.”

“Qin Ye, don’t be reckless. Stay steady.”

Qin Yun ignored the comments, strapped the drone to his body, turned on his action camera, tightened his backpack, and flattened himself onto the raft.

“This lowers the chance of the bears spotting me early. Since I’m in the water, my human scent is minimized. Brown bears have decent vision, especially motion detection—but at distance, they rely more on smell. Brothers, I’ve already seen them with my own eyes.”

The drone’s AI had switched to Qin Yun’s action camera feed—the water rushed loudly; the brown bears in the distance were blurry but unmistakable.

Qin Yun couldn’t say he wasn’t nervous—even though the river had widened and the raft moved fast, if he just skimmed past the bears, they’d likely not catch him.

“We’re dead—holy shit, I’m so tense.”

“Same. Qin Ye’s way too calm—this is basically delivering a five-star meal.”

“Host’s insane—daring beyond belief.”

“Hope the host survives.”

“This is better than any foreign wilderness survival show—Qin Ye, awesome.”

Qin Yun was now less than thirty meters from the bears. He pressed a button—the drone’s propellers surged, noise exploding upward, instantly drawing the bears’ attention from their fishing.

They both looked up at once, spotted the hovering drone, and roared warnings.

The low, rumbling growls came through the mic, sending chills down spines.

At that moment, Qin Yun’s raft glided past the thirty-meter mark, slicing just three meters from the bears’ left side—dancing on a razor’s edge.

He held his breath, eyes locked on the massive brown bear.

Only up close can you truly grasp the gulf between species—there’s no comparison.

His master-level combat skills made him formidable against humans. But facing this bear, Qin Yun knew they’d be useless—even if he leveled up further, he’d never land a killing blow on such an apex predator.

Only if he had a weapon—say, a top-tier bow—could he kite it, wearing it down with distance.

“Splash—!”

The mother bear suddenly lowered her head, snapping her gaze toward Qin Yun—she’d smelled meat again, and now saw him, flat on the raft.

Even as Qin Yun turned, their eyes met.

“Holy shit—I’m spotted.”

Qin Yun shouted, frantically thrashing his bamboo pole in the water, as the massive bear charged toward him.

The drone’s lens now faced the bear—its thunderous roars, earth-shaking charges—all streamed live to every viewer.

“Dead! Dead! Dead! Host’s gonna die!”

“Faster, faster, Qin Ye, go faster!”

“It’s fine—Qin Ye’s raft’s fast enough. The bear can’t catch him.”

As they spoke, the bear suddenly sank—its whole body plunged into the water—the riverbed had deepened sharply.

This instantly accelerated the raft. Qin Yun exhaled in relief, sat up, watched the bear recede, and smiled.

“Brothers…”

The “s” in “brothers” hadn’t even left his lips when his body jolted violently—the raft crashed into something hard, the vines snapped, and the raft disintegrated instantly, hurling him into the water.

In a blink, he vanished without a trace.

“...Did the Titanic sink?”

“Heaven—what happened to Qin Ye?”

“Where is he?”

Twenty seconds passed—the drone’s feed showed only rushing water, no Qin Yun.

“Done. Qin Ye’s gone.”

“Joking, right?”

“Impossible—Qin Ye’s so strong…”

Then the drone feed switched to Qin Yun’s action camera—dark, churning water, limbs flailing—then a head burst upward. It was Qin Yun. His body couldn’t fight the current—he was swept forward uncontrollably.

“Qin Ye’s amazing—he didn’t die!”

“666—scared the hell out of me. Thought Qin Ye was done.”

“Danger’s not over—current’s getting wilder. Qin Ye’s guess was probably right—there might be a waterfall ahead.”

“One Day Eight Times gifts: a sports car—Qin Ye, keep going!”

“I Love Handsome gifts: a luxury yacht—Qin Ye, you’ve got this!”

“Sister Not Cute gifts:…”

A flood of gifts flashed across the screen. Qin Yun had no time to notice—but he remained calm, face utterly unruffled.

“Friends, bad luck—the raft hit a rock and broke apart. I need to stabilize myself and reach shore fast. If I hit a rock in this current, I’m dead.”

Qin Yun told the drone, then activated his core, sinking swiftly to the riverbed to grip the stones below.

But after several attempts, he failed—too slippery.

Luckily, his action camera and drone were waterproof—DJI had designed them with this in mind.

Qin Yun surfaced again: “Hard to grip underwater. I’ll have to swim. Hope the waterfall or cliff is far ahead.”

He finished speaking; the drone rose, capturing the full scene, while he began swimming hard in the frame, inching toward shore.

Calling it “swimming” was generous—he mostly drifted, but it helped a little.

After another effort, he gave up—his strength was drained. He pulled the drone closer: “Brothers, the current’s getting stronger. The chance of a cliff or waterfall ahead is high. I can’t keep drifting—I need to grab a big rock, or I won’t stop.”

“But underwater, I can’t see. So I rely on the drone. Hope I get lucky.”

He launched the drone again. Soon, he spotted a large, protruding gray rock—small, but firmly anchored to the riverbed.

His eyes lit up. He adjusted course, hands ready to grasp.

“Here we go—Qin Ye, push!”

“Qin Ye, you can do it—make it!”

“Host’s done—if he misses, he’ll be crushed.”

“Trust Qin Ye.”

Qin Yun focused intensely. As he neared the rock, he flung his arms backward, using the recoil to slow slightly, then shot his hands out—left and right—clamping onto the rock’s upper edge, and was instantly yanked backward.

He strained, tendons bulging, until his body fused with the gray rock—and the force gradually faded.

“Phew… Lucky.”

Qin Yun gave the drone a thumbs-up, then quickly scanned, sank beneath the surface, grabbed a stone, and stepped along the riverbed toward shore.

Moments later, he climbed onto land, soaked and utterly disheveled.

He ignored everything else, first checked the drone—no water ingress—and finally exhaled.

“Not bad. Though terrifying, I’ve crossed over a hundred kilometers. I feel it—human civilization can’t be far.”

As Qin Yun spoke, the screen flooded with gifts—the largest ones from Polang and Fengliu, plus others tossing Carnival tokens—all wealthy patrons.

Qin Yun thanked them all, then stripped off his clothes.

“Host goes nude without a word—I’m in love.”

“If I had Qin Ye’s body, I’d run naked every day.”

“I’m licking the screen—”

Qin Yun glanced at the comments and smiled: “The water’s still cold. Wet clothes drain my heat. Taking them off is safest.”

Luckily, his body was strong—without wet clothes, he felt no chill—but he couldn’t stay naked forever.

It seems I can’t leave today—I must start a fire to dry my clothes. And with only the river to rely on, I might even get a delicious fish soup today.

Master Qin, could Bear One and Bear Two possibly be chasing us?

Qin Yun replied: “Since we encountered the brown bear, we’ve drifted far beyond its sense of smell, so there’s no need to worry about them catching up—fish meat suits their taste far better than human flesh.”

He rested briefly, then built a firepit on the spot and lit a flame. In no time, a simple stove took shape; the fire rose, driving away the chill from his body. He stripped completely naked—the camera cut away—and hung his clothes beside the fire.

Why doesn’t Master Qin cut the camera back? Such a miser.

Upstairs, if you cut it back, you believe the livestream would go black instantly?

Hahaha, Master Qin isn’t actually doing anything pornographic—you guys are jerks.