Chapter 352: Paraglider Back Online: Destination—The Fire Scene!

Wang Yun firmly pushed down their hands.

“There’s no time! Help me find some branches. And get out any spare clothes, dirty or clean, doesn’t matter.”

His voice was urgent, brooking no argument. Seeing their big brother’s determination, Xiao Gang and Brother Hu dared not protest further. They quickly got to work, following his orders to the letter.

The viewers in the live stream watched Wang Yun’s actions and immediately realized what he was planning.

The chat erupted with alarm.

“No way… Is he going to paraglide again?!”

So did the producer.

“Wang Yun, stop! You can’t do this. The heat from the fire will create turbulence, both the wind and oxygen levels will be unpredictable. Forget controlling your speed, once you hit the air above those flames, you’ll lose all control of your direction. If you… if you fall into the fire…” the producer’s voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Everyone knew that paragliding demanded precise conditions—wind speed, temperature, altitude—everything had to be perfect. Wang Yun had succeeded twice before: once using the typhoon winds and once gliding from a high vantage point to a lower one.

But both times, luck had played a part.

This time?

They were on a mountaintop, but if he flew directly into the inferno below, it would be suicide.

“There’s no time to argue. That’s six lives on the line. Six lives!” Wang Yun’s roar was hoarse, raw with emotion.

The live chat went silent for a split second—then exploded with emotion. Many viewers felt a chill run down their spines. Some, their hearts aching, felt their eyes sting with tears.

Six lives.

But Wang Yun’s life mattered too.

The thought flashed through everyone’s mind—unspoken, but heavy.

Because to say it aloud felt like sentencing those six people to death.

One life for six.

Was it worth it?

No. It was not.

Yet, no one dared to speak those words.

Wang Yun, focused and silent, bent down and began gathering branches within reach. With swift, practiced movements, he tied them together using a rope.

Thanks to his God-Tier Craftsmanship skill, constructing a single-person paraglider was quick work.

As he worked, he tore apart every piece of clothing he could find from Brother Hu’s backpack—three T-shirts and two jackets. He shredded them into strips and used them to reinforce the glider.

He used everything.

Aside from the clothes on their backs—and what they had already sacrificed crossing the cliff—they had nothing left.

Brother Hu had it the worst. His clothes had already been ripped during their last climb. Now, only a few tattered strips of fabric dangled from his neck—making him look both ridiculous and heroic.

They were using every last resource because they were saving lives.

“Boss, we’re coming with you!”

“Yeah, we’ll go too!”

Xiao Gang and Brother Hu stepped forward just as Wang Yun was about to finish.

Wang Yun shot them a sharp glare.

“What, so I can rescue eight people instead of six?” he said dryly, sarcasm lacing his voice.

Xiao Gang immediately shook his head and turned to Brother Hu.

“Brother Hu, you stay behind. With your size, the glider won’t even lift off.”

Brother Hu’s face turned red. 

“You—! I—!” He spluttered, lost for a comeback.

“You’re one to talk!” he finally blurted, but the retort was weak, and he knew it.

Just as their bickering reached its peak, Wang Yun suddenly stood up. Gripping the makeshift paraglider tightly, he stepped back a few paces.

Then, with a powerful sprint, he leaped.

“Boss!!”

“Wang Yun!”

The cries of Xiao Gang, Brother Hu, and the producer overlapped, but it was too late.

Wang Yun’s body shot forward—then up—before vanishing into the night.

The livestream froze in collective horror.

The sky was a black abyss. Visibility was near zero. The moon, once a faint silver guide, had disappeared, smothered by thick smoke. Nothing remained but the roaring darkness and the inferno below.

Suddenly, a calm, deep voice broke through Wang Yun’s earpiece.

“Brother Wang, I know who you are. From this point on, follow my directions.”

It was a man’s voice—low, steady, authoritative.

The speaker was none other than the captain of the fire brigade.

Ten fire trucks were racing toward the scene, two ambulances following close behind. Despite their readiness, despite all their preparation, everyone feared the worst.

The fire was too fierce. The smoke too dense. 

The six people were running out of time.

“This is Captain Li,” the voice continued. “I can see your position through your tracker. Now, listen closely. Fly straight ahead for about three hundred meters. Then, turn right at a sixty-five-degree angle. After that, if you can maintain control, fly another two thousand meters. You should reach a safe landing zone.”

The instructions were clear. Simple, even.

But Wang Yun was in mid-air with no instruments. No altimeter. No navigation system.

No way to gauge distance.

A firefighter beside Captain Li frowned. “Captain, can he even do that?”

“Even trained pilots need their instruments to measure distance mid-flight.”

Captain Li didn’t answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the screen—watching Wang Yun’s trajectory via the live GPS feed.

The production team had shared Wang Yun’s coordinates with the fire department. No one else could see his location, only Captain Li.

The producer couldn’t.

The viewers couldn’t.

But Captain Li could.

Finally, after a long, tense silence, Captain Li spoke. 

“I don’t know,” Li Long admitted, his voice tight with uncertainty.

But then he added, firm and resolute.

“But I believe in him.”