Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2414 - 2254: Scared Out of Their Wits
Previously on Rebirth: Super Banking System...
They wrapped up their meal.
Chai Ren and his companions resumed their journey.
Destination.
--- Central Urban Zone.
Weekly fresh themes in the city projections, each crafted with top-notch quality, showcase the genuine effort that delights hordes of visitors.
Worth every trip.
Plus.
Eager for the return visit.
...
Mansion.
Top floor terrace.
Tang Qing positioned himself with hands clasped behind, staring far off at Xin’an City’s bustling downtown, lights so bright they lit up the heavens. Truth be told, he served as the lead architect.
Deeply pleased with this creation.
These days.
Myanmar’s soaring power usage has skyrocketed, far beyond a mere ten times the level from five years back—now it’s multiplied by tens.
Truly remarkable.
Yet.
Through smart scheduling.
Needs.
Provision.
Balance is always struck. Even fitting lights along every public road of asphalt and concrete hasn’t strained the full energy network.
Long before.
He’d secured reliable nuclear reactor tech, constructing one but keeping it off the main grid. The key wasn’t worry over detection.
Rather.
To invest funds.
Hydroelectric.
Coal-fired.
Wind-generated.
All allow for dedicated ventures.
Coal imports.
Spike massively, with nations borrowing Asia Dollars aplenty, using the funds to buy and ship to their lands, fueling global flow of Asia Dollars.
Hence.
Nuclear tech stays reserved for covert ops. Meanwhile, Tang Qing paused the market rollout of controlled fusion power.
Develop it.
But hold back sales.
Lest.
Overseas nations lose prime ways to gain Asia Dollars, and with emissions fixed, shifting fully to coal plants avoids dirtying the skies.
Figuring it out.
Coal power.
Stands as the prime choice since... it lets you burn cash endlessly.
Tech progress.
Needs to align with grand strategies; these innovations won’t gather dust as spots demand them, like Tang Qing’s push for a space vessel.
Or else.
Once warp points hit Mars and Mercury, setting up outposts calls for such tech. As for orbital satellites spotting them on those worlds?
Ha!
No chance.
We dictate their view, nearly free to act as we please in the skies, barring widespread nukes.
Deep down.
Tang Qing anticipates it.
By month’s close.
Or the following one.
With warp nodes deployed on those planets, zapping over for a peek ought to thrill, given he’s never set foot on alien soil.
...
Deep into the night.
Office room.
Tang Qing lounged back in his seat, eyes fixed on the wall screen ahead. Left side showed an animated flick, right displayed a wild forest vista.
Within it.
Close to two dozen figures hunkered in the underbrush; live feed this was. Why the bright look? Simple—Little Two’s overlay, no big feat.
That marked the Thailand-Myanmar frontier.
Evidently.
These folks geared up for illegal entry. Lately, droves aim to slip into Myanmar. Annually, thousands get nabbed and sent packing.
- Thailand.
- Laos.
- India.
- Bangladesh.
Sharing borders.
Makes sneaking routine, though all wind up caught. Officials keep seizure stats under wraps, so attempts persist.
Still.
As returnees share tales.
As watchers note patterns.
Folks see success odds near nil, bit by bit, awareness spreads that breaching borders proves futile.
No papers mean no jobs dare take them.
Those who tried.
Face fines so steep they question everything.
No docs.
Jobs.
Trips.
Lodging.
None feasible.
Thus.
Through whispers, trials dwindled. Years back, scores tried monthly; today, just one or two.
This round.
A crew eyed museum goods. Tang Qing smirked, pondering if they skimped on recon.
Maybe.
Just gutsy?
Betting on vast lines and lax guards for a shot. Wrong they were; sky watchers run nonstop.
No downtime.
So.
Tang Qing lined up plenty of late-night fun for them.
Wishing.
They savor a night to remember.
...
Thailand-Myanmar line.
Dark hours.
Pitch black shrouded all, as they donned night-vision gear, weapons slung, ready to push into Myanmar. Excitement mixed with frustration stirred in each.
Thrilled since.
Booty awaited.
Frustrated because.
Such entry differed from old gigs, normal paths blocked too. Night brought swarms of bugs.
"Slap!"
"Slap!"
"..."
Blast it.
What junk bug spray—fakes from those crooks? Inner gripes flew; Thai sellers were ruthless cheats.
Luckily.
No real hitch.
Time to push.
"Advance."
"Got it."
The team dashed over the shadowy divide; prior scouts cleared this trail, or they’d never risk it.
Back then.
These zones teemed with explosives.
But now.
Mine-sweepers cleared nearly all. They rustled through thickets to a narrow stream.
Traverse it.
Enter Myanmar.
"Forward."
The squad.
Waded the shallow flow. The pale leader grinned inwardly; big talk on tight security, yet they pierced it easy.
Heh!
Hype exceeded reality.
Right as smugness peaked.
"Click!"
A noise.
Hit his ears, that known feel twisted his features in terror, soul-shaken, for his foot pressed a trap.
That instant.
Jungle rustles masked it via headsets, others missed, but drill kicked in—front halt signaled all to drop low.
"Issue?" a rear voice queried.
At the words.
Sweat drenched him.
"I... trod... on a mine."
Words dropped.
Shock rippled, nearly leaping back a few paces, "No way, route checked clean, no such risks."
"Maybe."
"A stick?"
Hearing that.
Anger flared in him.
"Think I can’t spot stick from bomb? Come on, assist now." Then the crew grasped the peril, fanning out.
One edged up.
Prone.
Gently brushed dirt aside, exposing a glint of steel, and all silently swore; scout’s intel was rotten too.
Curse!
How’d they overlook this threat?
"Now what?"
"Disarm it!"
"On it."
Group had pros for sure, cracking a mine posed no sweat, "Fresh device. Peacetime means Myanmar’s leftover is a jumper type."
Else.
Foot off would’ve blown already.
Drew blade.
Scooped soil.
Hunted rock.
Classic fix for the snag, but suddenly.
"Tick-tock."
"Tick-tock."
"..."
The noise rose, quickening pace, jolting nerves anew, straight from the buried metal mass.