Searching for someone in northern Myanmar, and you call that earning tuition fees?

The cold wind felt like knives, cutting straight into my throat.

Li Changfeng's arms were almost strangling Su Ming's waist, and his face was blown to a liver color.

The metal box beneath his bottom bounced violently on the hard ice surface. With each landing, Li Changfeng felt his spine slapping against his forehead.

"Su Ming! How do you slow this thing down?!" Li Changfeng roared in the wind, but his voice was shattered as soon as it left his mouth.

Su Ming stared at the white-clad figure gliding rapidly ahead, without turning his head: "It's just a metal box, what's the point of reducing it?"

"Then how the hell do we stop?!"

"Broke down."

Li Changfeng nearly fainted: "Ancestor, I'm begging you, please leave me a whole corpse! There are still a few insurance policies at home that haven't been signed!"

The box leaped over the earthen slope once more, briefly soaring into the air.

"Flying! The divine messenger is flying!" Zhuoma, clinging to Li Changfeng's back, let out a high-pitched scream, wildly waving her Tibetan knife and slashing wildly in the air.

At this moment, on a mountain sentry post three kilometers away.

Squad leader Wang Dayong was holding binoculars when his mechanical scanning motion suddenly froze.

He rubbed his eyes and refocused.

"Platoon leader, I might be snow blind." Wang Dayong turned to look at his platoon leader, his eyes filled with self-doubt.

The platoon leader frowned and shoved him aside: "What nonsense are you talking about? There's not even sun out today, how could you have snow blindness?"

"No... I saw someone skiing, followed by... a metal box?" Wang Dayong gestured. "Three people were sitting on the metal box in a human pyramid, going faster than the skier, like that... 'Snow Mountain Flying Fox'."

The platoon leader didn't say anything, but snatched the binoculars.

In the field of vision, a bright silver dot was plunging down a steep slope of nearly sixty degrees, so fast that it almost sparked in the air.

Holy crap.

The platoon leader swore and then fell silent.

"Platoon leader, what's that lump?" Wang Dayong asked.

Through the binoculars, the young man at the front was crouching down, gripping the edge of the metal box with both hands.

A pale-faced, burly man was hanging from the young man's waist.

A Tibetan girl with a head full of dirty braids, wielding a Tibetan knife, was wrapped around the burly man's back.

Three people were sitting on a box in a human pyramid formation, their center of gravity ridiculously high, which should have caused it to tip over long ago. But the young man in the front would subtly adjust his body angle every time the box was about to tip over, pulling the center of gravity back to normal.

"Which part of the hell is this? Did the acrobatic troupe come up the mountain to perform for us?" the platoon leader muttered to himself.

He took a deep breath, slammed the alarm, and roared into the communicator, "Stop looking! Everyone assemble! Whether they're circus performers or lunatics, if they're heading for our zone, take them all down!"

Behind them, Captain Snowfox's skis drew two perfect arcs across the snow.

As a top mercenary, his pride was suffering a devastating blow.

No matter how fast he accelerated, even using the auxiliary power on his skis, he still couldn't catch up with the metal box with its broken bottom.

"Ignore the boxes! Shoot the guy in white! That's the real target!" Snow Fox ordered.

Gunshots echoed through the valley.

Ahead, the man in white, who was desperately fleeing with a long bundle on his back, also heard the sound of wind and gunshots behind him.

He glanced back.

That one glance nearly caused him to crash into a rock.

What is that?

A shimmering silver lump, bearing three faces with distinct expressions, was suicidally hurtling toward the back of his head.

"Prepare for impact," Su Ming said calmly.

"Ancestor, who are you going to hit?" Li Changfeng felt like he was going to throw up.

Su Ming did not answer. His gaze was sharp as lightning, fixed on every trace left by the white-clad man's skis on the snow.

He constantly adjusted his body as the box swayed, and with each shift in his center of gravity, he brought the out-of-control lump of metal one step closer to its target.

"Collide!"

Su Ming forcefully pried open the front handle of the box with both hands.

Due to its uneven bottom, the metal box shifted instantly under the force, and the entire iron box was flung around violently, turning into an out-of-control flying disc that cut diagonally into the white-clad man's flank trajectory, skimming the ice surface.