Chapter 97: Taking Photos

Turn off the live stream, charge the equipment, and Qin Yun began figuring out how to survive this night.

He glanced at the thermometer—the temperature had dropped to minus thirty degrees; the Earth had truly become increasingly strange. He had checked historical data: previously, during late October to early November, temperatures never exceeded minus eighteen degrees.

But now it had reached this low—absurd.

Yet despite the cold, as long as there was no rain, it posed less of a threat to dry climbing. Modern technology ensured insulation gear could retain heat effectively; so long as he consumed sufficient energy, there was no danger from the cold.

Setting up camp was impossible—there was no place to drive in pegs. At this altitude, he could only crawl into his sleeping bag and lean against the rock wall, trying to avoid the wind.

But it was still too early to sleep; the drone was charging and his phone had no signal. Qin Yun took out his stove and began melting snow for water. Though he couldn’t cook anything, the snow at this altitude held virtually no bacteria—he didn’t worry about diarrhea.

As the snowwater boiled, he tossed in the pre-packaged, frozen noodles, then dumped in dried meat, sausage, shiitake mushrooms, and other ingredients all at once.

Soon, the aroma spread, and Qin Yun’s appetite surged.

In this extreme environment, even a hot meal was a luxury—but Qin Yun was eating steaming noodles. Only now, with the live stream off, would netizens think he was just camping.

But he had taken several photos, planning to post them on his Moments after leaving.

After finishing the hot meal and chewing through two energy bars, Qin Yun packed up and sat quietly on the rock face, gazing at the distant scene.

The cold wind cut like a blade; the day’s harshness had been replaced by solemn stillness.

The setting sun had long vanished beyond the horizon; now the north face glowed under moonlight and starlight.

Everything around him seemed eternal—this had been its form before Qin Yun arrived, and it remained unchanged now that he was here.

Silence. Eternity. Grandeur.

Qin Yun was like an observer—unremarkable, yet impossible to ignore.

The scenery here was cruel—so cruel it was beyond human reach. Qin Yun suddenly realized what he was experiencing was something most people could never know. A deeper longing rose within him.

This longing deepened, gradually becoming clear.

With all the abilities granted by the system, why should he settle for whatever came his way? Why not face the challenge head-on?

The thought flashed through his mind. Qin Yun crawled into his sleeping bag, sheltering from wind and frost. The night passed silently.

The next day, before six a.m., the sky abruptly brightened. Qin Yun emerged from his sleeping bag, stiff and numb—he had slept poorly, waking nearly every half hour.

Whether from animal roars, howling winds, or falling rocks striking the “eaves,” the night had been anything but quiet.

He turned on the live stream, secured the drone, and began heating water and cooking.

“Master Qin, you’re up early.”

“Glad to see you’re still alive—I’m relieved.”

“I worried all night and barely slept, so I ate a ton of barbecue and drank beer.”

“Good morning, Master Qin.”

Qin Yun waved from the side: “Friends, good morning. I’m Qin Yun, a casual climber currently at Camp C2 on the north face of Yaomei Peak. The ground here is narrow—only enough space for me to move. No camp setup possible. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

He poured hot water into his cup, sipped slowly, and a warm stream flooded his belly—he instantly felt warmer.

“Comfortable!”

After drinking, the live stream’s viewer count had surpassed twenty thousand—absurd for this hour.

Han Wei, at base camp, had woken at five a.m. and stayed glued to Qin Yun’s homepage, entering the stream the moment it went live.

Seeing Qin Yun in good condition, drinking hot water, she felt somewhat reassured.

She had truly feared something dangerous might have happened last night—after all, Qin Yun now carried her responsibility. If anything went wrong, she didn’t know how she’d face it.

Seeing over twenty thousand viewers, she immediately sent ten Carnival gifts, igniting the chat.

As comments multiplied, Qin Yun packed up and began moving.

“The weather is excellent today—no snow fell yesterday. This greatly benefits my next moves.”

He leapt sideways, launching himself into the air, driving his ice axe deep into the ice wall and hanging from it.

Qin Yun began his new day’s challenge on the north face, and everyone in the live stream perked up—they knew the exciting part was about to begin.

Once climbing truly began, Qin Yun spoke less.

He was no god—he was still human. Though his skills were master-level, they weren’t supernatural. One misstep could still mean disaster.

In this place, one misstep meant death—eighteen years later, you’d be a good man again.

So even though he looked effortless, every step was taken with extreme caution, moving at a glacial pace.

Worse, he had no protection—only his ice axe and crampons securing him. The difficulty skyrocketed.

Over an hour passed quietly; the viewer count had unknowingly reached over one hundred thousand. Every time it rose by ten thousand, Han Wei sent ten Carnival gifts—she had already sent ninety so far.

That was 270,000 RMB.

She treated money like it meant nothing. For an ordinary person, that was two years’ income without eating or drinking.

“What does Miss Han do? How is she so rich?”

“Truly beautiful and wealthy—please adopt me.”

“Wahhh, I’m so jealous—why doesn’t Master Qin just throw himself into her arms?”

“How can someone be so perfect—tall, great physique, top looks, rich? Damn it, Qin Yun, how come he eats so well?”

‘Whoosh—!’

Suddenly, the live stream heard a violent wind gust. The drone shuddered violently—its first instability since the climb began.

Qin Yun pressed himself tightly against the ice wall, motionless.

This sudden gale came out of nowhere—fast, fierce, as if aimed directly at him.

Had he not been fully focused, he might have been swept away.

At the same time, Qin Yun noticed white flakes falling into his field of view—his heart sank.

“Damn, it’s snowing.”

Even he couldn’t hold back cursing in the stream—this situation was dire.

“Shit, it’s snowing, the wind’s picking up—what do we do?”

“Conditions like this make continuing impossible, but retreating is even harder.”

“What now? Should Master Qin go up or down?”

Han Wei’s heart tightened—her tension was visibly palpable.

Su Huan, curled under her blankets, sat bolt upright at the sight. Her pale upper body and curves flashed into view, but she didn’t care—her eyes locked on the screen, fingers gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Qin Yun felt the snow and wind rising—even his mental resilience dipped.

Snow and wind here weren’t like those on Zhufeng. On a near-vertical 80–90-degree ice wall, snow and wind multiplied the difficulty tenfold, maybe more.

Even Qin Yun would struggle.

Retreat—or press on?

Qin Yun wavered.

Moments later, his voice echoed through the stream.

“Brothers, under these conditions, I must keep moving forward. Though returning to Camp C2 seems safer, it’s easier to go up than down—I have no choice.”

He continued climbing.

The drone wobbled backward, capturing his entire figure. In the snowstorm, his silhouette grew increasingly indistinct.

The brutal weather conditions were laid bare in the stream.

No protection—just two ice axes—climbing the north face of Yaomei Peak. No one would believe it.

Viewer count surged rapidly; by 9:30 a.m., it had surpassed two hundred thousand.

Qin Yun had repeatedly replenished energy—simply hanging on the ice wall consumed enormous physical reserves.

5300… 5400… 5500…

Suddenly, Qin Yun spotted a patch of green—hanging in a crack. He leaned closer, his expression shifting slightly. It was a broken ice axe, with a deformed thermos attached.

On one side of the thermos, he saw a character—‘Han.’

As the camera zoomed in, viewers in the stream saw it—all those who recognized it erupted.

“Holy shit—is this Miss Han’s sister’s gear?”

“No doubt—how could it be a coincidence?”

Han Wei recognized the thermos—she clapped a hand over her mouth, tears streaming.

She had given this thermos to Han Xue.

Qin Yun reached out, removed the thermos from the broken ice axe, and clipped it to his backpack. The meaning was obvious.

He continued upward.

Against the snow and wind, he reached 5600 meters at 11 a.m.—this was almost certainly where Han Xue had disappeared.

Han Xue, who had lost a limb due to an ice avalanche, was now mentally unstable, according to Han Wei’s hints.

He stabilized himself, scanned the area, and soon found a glove frozen to the ice. He touched it, then spoke into the camera, voice low and heavy:

“Han Wei, I’m at the site where your sister had her accident.”

The stream fell silent—only the wind and snow remained. Viewers were moved to tears.

Then Qin Yun’s voice sounded again.

“I’ll take a panoramic photo of Yaomei Peak in a moment.”

Qin Yun looked up toward the summit.

From 5600 meters to 6250 meters—650 meters remained. This final stretch was the most treacherous on Yaomei’s north face—the Ice Blade Ridge: crossing ice cliffs, ascending the summit snow basin—each step on the edge of death.

He ordered the drone to pull back, then farther still, and captured a panoramic photo of Yaomei Peak!

“Han Wei, photo taken!”

Han Wei’s task was complete. Now came his own.

Conquer this Eastern Devil’s Wall, complete the system’s check-in task, and claim the reward.

"Alright, now I'm going for the summit."

Qin Yun’s gaze sharpened again; he turned and set out once more toward the sharp peak just before him.