Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2403 - 2243: Black Horse
Previously on Rebirth: Super Banking System...
Chapter Twelve.
The dawn hours.
Tang Qing showed up in South Africa one more time.
Right now.
A weird tension filled the air at the 2010 World Cup championship match since the finalists caught everybody off guard completely.
• New Zealand.
• Cameroon.
To be frank.
Hardly any supporters for either squad were present in the stadium; the bulk of attendees had shown up expecting European or American powerhouses to crush it, but instead, these underdogs popped up.
For a moment.
Cheers came few and far between.
Instead.
Folks rooted more for their wagers than the actual sides. Plenty of athletes out there looked just as stunned, wondering in their heads how in the world they even got to this stage.
Earlier on.
A bunch of them had even put money down on their own squads to flop.
Yet.
Out of nowhere.
They pulled off the victories!
Regardless of which team takes the crown in this showdown, both groups felt a touch of unease, while back home, their supporters partied like it was the biggest holiday ever.
Right now.
The announcer's voice boomed out strong and clear as always.
But.
Inside, he swore a storm, realizing half a year's salary had vanished, which left him rattled and itching to jump off the booth and yell at the crowd.
This outcome.
He struggled big time to swallow it.
Ahead of kickoff.
Lots of soccer experts broke it down; looking back, those so-called pros were spouting nonsense. Their predictions weren't worth a damn more than flipping a coin.
Good lord!
How many free rides did those clowns snag anyway?
...
In his office.
Tang Qing grinned while eyeing the intense clashes on the pitch. No one else could guess that six guys from those squads worked for him.
In the end.
He steered these two teams straight into the title clash.
Back in his previous life.
Spain and the Netherlands from Europe had claimed the spots. But this round, he twisted it so one hailed from Africa and the other from Oceania.
Thus.
European fans fumed hard.
The hell.
I traveled this far, and you stick me with this crap? The annoyance hits deep; even worse, they've dropped a ton of cash, and the pain stings like fire.
It seems like.
This whole World Cup turned into a total waste.
...
Still.
The heartbreak didn't stop there.
At last.
The final whistle pierced the air, wrapping up the current World Cup, with New Zealand... falling short.
"Xie Te."
"Fuck."
"New Zealand really went down? Crap, there goes my thousand bucks."
"You bastard."
"..."
In Europe and America.
Rage exploded everywhere; sure, New Zealand's run surprised some, and folks weren't thrilled, but at least it was a Western nation, so they grudgingly went along.
But.
Cameroon.
A tiny African nation, easy to overlook, shockingly snagged the 2010 World Cup championship crown—this dark horse pulled off the wildest upset ever.
The hell!
My cash!
...
At the venue.
This instant.
Most of the Cameroon players stood there dazed too, never dreaming they'd claim the ultimate prize, especially since a few had thrown the game on purpose.
But they triumphed anyway.
Maybe.
The New Zealand side put bets against their own success?
Oh, hell!
What a sneaky move, pulling that off? Even Cameroon's head coach's lips quirked in disbelief, his mind drifting close to what some athletes suspected.
Still.
Glancing over the whole tournament.
It looked like.
New Zealand hadn't slacked off at all, just hit a streak of rotten luck; a handful of almost-scores slipped away for all sorts of odd reasons.
Could it be.
Fate at play?
"Roar!"
"We won!"
"We're number one!"
"..."
Minds raced in different directions, yet they had to fake the excitement; the athletes bounced around in mock joy, piled into group hugs, then dashed across the turf, mixing laughs with fake sobs.
To bystanders, it screamed pure bliss.
But they had no clue.
A few genuinely felt like bawling.
Right then.
This surprise champ, Cameroon, shot straight to global front pages, their emotional huddles and watery eyes dominating the visuals, flooding every news outlet.
Headline:
"Tears of Joy"
All in all.
Glowing reviews.
Non-stop hype.
...
At the same time.
Another story broke fast: massive busts hit underground betting rings around the world, with bosses vanishing alongside the wager pots.
And not only one spot.
For a bit.
The uproar dwarfed even Cameroon's big win, as swears flew across the globe; yeah, a few got lucky wagering on Cameroon's upset.
Right as they celebrated.
The funds disappeared.
How could anyone stomach that?
So.
They dialed up the cops right away, raging inside at those rotten thieves—my guts to back the long shot, and this is the thanks?
...
Ice City.
Park Hotel, Tang Qing had come back already, ignoring the backlash over the scam scandals and with zero plans to chase down the stolen dough.
Simply put.
He aimed to wipe out shady betting scenes.
Plus.
Delivering a wake-up call to a few; stuff like this works best kept light, no need to push extremes. This round's swindle mostly hit the hardcore gamblers hardest.
Truth is.
New Zealand against Cameroon.
Regular folks.
Would mostly back the first to take it; when the score hit, those types already ate the loss, no chance to cash out, so calling it theft stretched it.
They bolted.
And it smartened up a crowd too.
Gambling.
Ain't worth it.
"Sigh!"
A thought crossed his mind, and Tang Qing let out a heavy breath.
No bets in the world.
No cons in the world.
So tough.
On the betting front, he made sure his operatives pocketed casino winnings, with chunks funneled to good causes. For scams, he threw weight into cracking down.
Even so.
Couldn't stamp it out for good.
Luckily.
His operatives' hard work brought real progress, hitting scams extra hard lately.
These days.
Phone cons in Huaxia had grown scarce, thanks to relentless crackdowns that chased many abroad, where warnings kept them from messing with local ops.
As a result.
Foreign rackets got nearly crushed, and scary tales spread through the underworld, though fresh con schemes kept popping up without end.
Coin toss bets.
Movie outcome wagers.
Wine quality gambles.
Virtual pet stakes.
And more.
Endless varieties.
Can't wipe 'em clean, just keep the pressure on and spread smarts about it—good thing for his edge, or he'd only watch the crooks slip away.
...
A few hours passed.
Broad daylight.
Sun rays poured in from the glass, Tang Qing's form shimmered briefly, landing in the spare room—he'd just wrapped a quick cultivation session, sensing his power surging stronger, which felt downright satisfying.
Gazing out the pane.
The sun climbed high in the east.
Yet another fine day. While gloom blanketed Europe and America, souring their appetites, Huaxia supporters stayed chill, no wild obsessions or mania.
Life went on.
Do what you gotta do.
To most, the World Cup meant squat personally—what's it matter if Europe scores or Africa does?
It's not us taking the trophy anyway.
Glancing at the clock.
Time to head out.
Business calls.
...
Later that afternoon.
After joining the grand opening for Ice City's park, Tang Qing took off once more, jetting to Sanya, with just one final park left to launch.
Though not right away.
Set for late July.
This trip.
Just to crash at the Sanya villa for a stretch, and it's handy being near the active sea platform build zone, where Qin Shiqi and the crew beat him there by three days.