Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2363 - 2203: Habit

Evening.

In Davos Town, fresh snowflakes started drifting down once more. The locals buzzed with joy, hosting important visitors from various corners of the globe, making those few days stretch like a full month.

Simply superb!

They longed for such days to repeat endlessly, yet it remained a mere pipe dream. A yearly visit from these elites would suffice; no point in wishing for the impossible under the sun.

…

Lakeside villa.

Up on the second floor.

Jack Ma stared quietly through the window, filled with wonder. Collaborating with Tang Qing meant pure speed. In no time at all, they had secured eleven additional allies.

Moreover.

All of them exceptionally formidable.

Initially.

He lacked deep knowledge, unfamiliar with certain clans. Yet, after Tang Qing's quick rundown, his pulse quickened.

Mighty!

Incredibly mighty!

Wealth.

Authority.

Clout.

These clans stood near the pinnacle in their nations, their direct relatives, extended kin, and spouses often holding top spots in government or commanding military forces.

Or on the flip side, they commanded vast fortunes, capable of dominating vast spheres with ease.

To be honest.

A touch of fear gripped him. Though he'd encountered similar partnerships in the past, Tang Qing's strict criteria sent his heart pounding uncontrollably.

Formidable coalitions!

This.

Without doubt, it's a vast strategic play. Tang Qing builds an international web via Hummingbird, crafting a colossal influence network across scores of countries.

Frightening!

A power like this packs immense punch!

Still.

Even with his thrill surging, since Ali joins this network, its road ahead promises far fewer hurdles.

Operations.

Regulations.

Financing.

Growth.

…

All barriers crumble effortlessly against such might. In the past, venturing overseas demanded careful networking and face-to-face efforts.

Today.

That's unnecessary.

It's collective progress now, with Hummingbird at the forefront; Ali won't need to forge solo connections anymore—every request will get a dedicated handler.

Tang Qing?

Too laid-back!

He handles ties with just a call at most. As for in-person meetings, he's skipped them entirely, and given his status, that's perfectly fine.

Hence.

Ali thrives shielded by Tang Qing.

Without that.

These clans would barely glance at a company like Ali. Even if its valuation soared ten times over, to them, cash isn't the sole yardstick.

Influence!

That's the true currency at their level.

Tang Qing.

Within China.

In Myanmar.

Even worldwide, his reach in power dwarfs Ali's. But Jack Ma harbors no resentment over this gap.

Influence.

Defines it all.

Through the years.

Ali has advanced steadily, particularly in its early days, battered by constant setbacks; rivals hammered it relentlessly due to its frailty then.

Frail!

Don't aim too high.

Besides.

Not anyone can snag a link to Tang Qing! Securing it proves real skill. This surge of pride and contentment feels ordinary yet deeply satisfying!

Right?

…

Far off.

Within a particular hotel.

"Bastard."

"This Tang Qing acts way too arrogantly."

"Hmph!"

"To outright turn us down."

"…"

While certain talks succeeded, others inevitably failed. Many groups reached out, but only a handful got the nod; those turned away politely seethed with dissatisfaction.

Yet.

Once the venting ended.

All that remained were heavy sighs.

What options did they have?

Enforce a partnership? Ridiculous. They knew their limits. Tang Qing backs a mighty force and stands as one himself. Undermining him?

Tough going.

That said.

Each resolved firmly: Tang Qing might lack sway abroad, but in their home territories, creating snags for him becomes straightforward, especially after his rejection.

Fine!

Time to unleash our strength.

Right away.

A call went out to kick off the plans. They could stir tempests too, reigning as true overlords in their lands.

Regarding crossing Tang Qing?

Please!

We don't rely on you to get by; if you snub us, why grovel? Even if it sours things, their clout and rank guarantee a life of luxury.

No matter the intensity.

Could Tang Qing truly dominate their country?

…

Right now.

Amid the Alps, atop Mont Blanc—the range's loftiest summit—eternal snow blankets its top. Under the dead of night, Tang Qing perches at the crest, embracing the gusts and chill.

In an instant.

The scene shifted from frozen wastes to a blooming haven of flora and fauna, on a remote Pacific isle, off major routes, absent from any country's charts.

For.

It had only recently taken shape.

This year.

Mining refuse.

Discarded debris.

A substantial pile had built up, too valuable to waste in the practice grounds, so it got hauled here bit by bit, birthing this man-made landmass, now adorned with blooms and greenery.

The intent.

Naturally, not mere scenery.

After all.

Blossoms thrive anywhere, and Tang Qing enjoys plenty of spots for that; the training area's flower fields span hugely, outshining any floral isle crafted here.

No special motive.

Just storage.

Beforehand.

Much like handling Kovalro and his vile crew, featuring two isles: one to strand villains in survival struggles.

The second.

Primarily to house the unfortunate.

Indeed.

Countless individuals no longer fit for society's gaze, yet unworthy of death or simple confinement, leading to spots like this.

These days.

Numbers growing.

Room running short.

Thus.

A fabricated isle got readied for their relocation, expandable via ongoing dumps, while the prior pair of isles shifted to alternative plans.

"Let’s begin!"

"Yes!"

…

A thousand miles distant.

On a modest isle, scattered glows danced, not from bulbs but flaming oil. 'Electricity' had long vanished from their world.

Food exists.

Water flows.

Life drags a tad.

Even so.

No gripes arise; boredom strikes some, often from lacking wild tales. This island's dwellers have stared into the abyss.

Certain ones.

Once served as test dummies for shadowy groups, watching comrades perish nearby, some even carved apart, organs harvested.

Others.

Got snatched to barren atolls.

One fighter.

One blade.

Clans clashed brutally, survivors earning extra breaths, cycling to fresh bouts. Some endured solo on desolate rocks, trio setup, starved bare.

Ultimately.

…..

They.

Found rescue in the end.

So.

Having glimpsed the inferno, they cherish routine existence more. Gazing at dawn, sharing a simple bite—even lounging idly.

That's bliss.

Slowly.

Whispers spread among them, realizing their saviors formed a noble outfit; as to staying confined, it clicked—dark powers loom large.

Primarily.

The group shuns risks, avoiding the spotlight.

Secondly.

Freedom might spell quick doom, targets for hits, even dragging kin down. Thus, the pull back to the world, over time.

Waned away.

This setup suits fine.

Food's there.

Drink's plenty.

All stand equal, free of ranks; surviving the worst, beholding evil's face, dancing on death's edge.

Now.

Accustomed, it's rather fine.