Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2343 - 2183: Return Voyage
Previously on Rebirth: Super Banking System...
Naturally.
Integrate seamlessly.
It involves no particular actions, perhaps just dropping by Bai Gong when idle, exploring the hidden bunker, claiming a seat at the elite round table, and enjoying a steaming hot pot meal or similar.
Such a role lacks the stature to challenge him truly.
The consortium.
Represents a more fitting adversary.
For now.
This administration stays straightforward, adhering to protocols, yet the upcoming one promises far greater chaos. Tang Qing ponders getting involved, since it ties directly to vital stakes.
Far from a detached matter.
Come that time.
A sensible leader in power versus an erratic one makes all the difference—one remains manageable, the other proves utterly frustrating.
Upon reflection.
Poses a real dilemma.
No need to hurry.
Seven years remain, and in this altered reality shaped by his influence, it's uncertain if those candidates will even step forward.
History carries momentum.
Yet.
The butterfly effect holds its own strength.
...
One hour passed.
"Swish swish!"
Rain pours down, waves surge high, trials of the submersible and aircraft press on without pause. Amid fierce gusts, the aircraft shifts forms fluidly in the sky.
Climb.
Plunge.
Glide.
...
Without a formal rescue simulation, the focus stays on handling harsh conditions; rain blurs the cockpit windows, but that's no issue.
Drop the helmet visor.
In a flash.
The view clears of rain, leaving only the churning seas in sharp focus across the waves—this isn't Little Two's doing.
It stems from the built-in tech.
Down below.
Thirty HD cameras snap endless shots, processed and merged by the onboard system, stripping away rain interference before beaming to the helmet display.
Glance left.
Glance right.
Glance up.
Glance down.
Every angle in crystal clarity.
Meanwhile.
As it merges, the system analyzes too.
Spotting anything unusual.
Even from three thousand meters up, it detects a small form in a life vest adrift on the ocean, so downpours won't hinder piloting sight.
"This tech is incredible," the military specialists kept commending, since visual augmentation ranks among the cutting-edge innovations in technology.
Previously.
In Xin Province.
They'd seen it in action during a nighttime sortie, via night vision cams, combining, rendering, relaying... turning darkness into broad day.
Nearly overwhelming.
Afterward.
They suggested acquiring it, and Tang Qing consented. The cost isn't steep, though it demands robust gear; for live rendering, latency can't surpass one hundred milliseconds.
That's a mere tenth of a second.
At present.
Compact aircraft lack room for sufficient processing units, limiting it to bigger machines.
Still.
Satisfaction prevails.
In the end.
Advancements in tech march forward, Moore’s Law ensures growing power is on the horizon. It stings a little over those materials submitted for review before.
At that point.
Tang Qing declared the aircraft specs open-source for free, barring the materials. Bringing back those top performers, subjecting them to thorough tests.
Sparked a stir.
Acquire.
Absolutely acquire.
On investigation.
Pricing stays reasonable.
But.
Volumes run huge; the six material varieties Tang Qing offered for checks boast remarkable quality, offering vast potential in defense gear, which jolted the authorities.
Ultimately.
A deal was struck.
Purchase.
No need for Tang Qing to erect his own steel plant; it's a partnership not with the government, but Chai Ren, long entrenched in steel production.
Thus.
One supplies the facility, the other the know-how.
Profits divide seventy-thirty, Tang Qing claiming the bigger cut.
Over a year.
It rakes in five or six billion with ease, though Tang Qing shrugs it off—these substances aren't just for profit; they're chiefly to deter any notion he's a soft target.
Right now.
Chai Ren grins broadly too.
This alliance.
Marks a true mutual gain, adding yet another revenue stream, two to three billion annually; he pays it little mind, fixating instead on prospects ahead.
With this one.
Others will follow.
Down the line.
Future materials remain unpredictable, but fresh steel breakthroughs could mean ongoing ties with him—that's Chai Ren's biggest hope.
After all.
Beneath Tang Qing's banner, almost twenty thousand researchers toil now. Once the other five major sites finish, direct staff will top seventy thousand.
Plus.
Ties with top universities, plus funded labs and ventures galore... Tsk tsk, Chai Ren's gaze sparkles involuntarily.
The road ahead.
Brims with potential.
...
Six in the evening.
Tests wrapped up.
Head back to headquarters.
Meanwhile, reports started bubbling across nations; outlets in most lands keep a cordial tone, but some chase clicks relentlessly.
In India.
One state.
Its capital.
A broadcaster.
"Tang Qing's Tianpeng Flying Device appears flashy, yet it's impractical—a childish knockoff of existing UAVs."
"See here."
"Right in the trial, a glitch sent it crashing into the sea."
"..."
The Indian presenter rambled on.
Clips showed.
The Tianpeng dipping into waves, sans Chinese voiceover, instead layered with panicked crowd noises, aired without restraint.
At first sight.
Plenty of Indians smirked.
"Tsk!"
"Hyped it up, but flops like this."
"Spot on."
"Tang Qing can't do everything perfectly."
"..."
They skipped doubting the clip's legitimacy; after all, witnessing rivals stumble offers rare everyday joy for many.
Hence.
Folks chime in, tearing it down.
Despite.
Certain homes with steady web links knew the facts, but that fails to halt the bulk from swallowing the tale, amid floods of bogus stories and whispers.
Such deceptions.
Abound.
Envy.
Hatred.
Breeds division.
Elsewhere.
A diner.
Eyeing the display, the bold silhouette and coverage, a man's lips curl in a bitter twist, sorrow gnawing within.
Once.
He'd crossed paths with Tang Qing, shared drinks.
Today.
The man soars ever higher, but him? Reduced to serving plates; Vika fights tears anew, memories hitting like a surreal haze.
Nabbed.
Abducted.
Shipped over oceans.
To Malay.
Indonesia.
India.
Through endless trials, the family empire crumbled, the patriarch died, his dad and brother linger unconscious, while the uncle grabbed the reins.
As for him?
Return?
No way; going back spells prison, craving that lavish life of models, stars, sleek rides, grand homes—all now lost, cast off by kin.
"Why linger? Back to tasks."
"Alright."
"On my way."
Vika jolts, swiftly straightening tables and seats.
...
Out on the waves.
At the prow.
Tang Qing dismisses such press antics with an eye roll; truth be told, crowds often shun facts, craving drama instead.
Swallow a bite.
Belch!
Stuffed.
Onto the subsequent tale, fact or fiction irrelevant. Tang Qing ignores it all, provided no vicious smears or slurs come his way.
He'll let it slide.
This realm.
Feels frustratingly powerless.
No matter the nonsense, a fifth of folks buy in; in his prior life, absurd anti-logic claims baffled him, yet exposure numbs it.
He accepts it now.
Truly.
Some cling to ideas of human cultivation for power, most would deem them mad, yet does the majority always hold truth?
At minimum.
His reality shatters that consensus, grounding how minds build beliefs.