Zhang Shupeng stands on a platform less than two square meters wide in early March, when winter slightly loosens its grip on the mountainous landscape of Zhangjiajie, Hunan province.

Below him, a colossal stone gateway punches through a vertical cliff face 1,300 meters up, as if some giant once drove a fist through the mountain and left the hole as a door to the sky.

Beyond it, thousands of quartz sandstone pillars rise through the mist like the petrified fingers of ancient gods across the Zhangjiajie National Forest Park, their peaks floating above the clouds as if the earth itself has come alive and is reaching for heaven.

Zhang steadies himself for a few seconds before jumping off in a wingsuit, to the cheers of onlookers and their raised phones.

For three or four seconds, he falls at 220 kilometers per hour, twice the usual freeway speed limit. Air slams into his body and face. Any tiny deviation changes his trajectory.

"It is impossible to describe," he says as he attempts to explain the sensation, adding that it requires intense focus.

After an arc, he levels out, flies, opens his parachute, and lands in a small parking lot.

For Zhang, it is not a performance, but regular training, and he has completed the feat more than 1,800 times.