Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2415 - 2255: Winning Streak

"It's finished!"

"This device's about to explode!"

"Need to take cover."

"..."

In a flash.

A barrage of ideas surged in the minds of all present, and in the end, nearly everyone opted for the identical choice—drop flat, among the top tactics to evade landmines.

"Thud!"

"Snap!"

"..."

The group plunged into the nearby vegetation, smashing numerous plants beneath them.

Right then.

The fellow was crumbling down.

Tears welled up inside him!

Despite catching the ticking sound, he refused to raise his foot. Mines rarely made noise like that. What sort of theatrical explosive was this?

Usually.

Explosives stay silent.

"Tick-tock!"

"Tick-tock!"

"..."

The rhythmic ticks persisted, resembling a fatal timer echoing through the darkness.

Done for!

The fellow's spirits plunged to the depths.

It looked like.

This limb was doomed; inwardly, he started swearing. Myanmar felt utterly grim. Why scatter these devices amid no disputes?

Far too hazardous, no doubt!

Xie Te.

Damn.

Plus those scouts.

Cursed be they.

...

He vented against all he could think of, then refocused, noting the ticks still droning on, steady for now, yet liable to detonate any moment.

Trekking by the riverbank, he'd ultimately forfeited his footwear.

Alas!

Might this.

Count as payback?

Pondering.

Pondering.

Moments ticked by.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

"..."

Jolting alert, the fellow sensed he'd overplayed the tension, puzzled why the blast hadn't come. With the ticks resounding, he braced for the verdict.

Six minutes.

Seven minutes.

At last.

Ten minutes.

Confusion gripped the group—why no detonation? They exchanged bewildered looks, at a loss, until one finally voiced it.

"A dud?"

"Likely."

"Defective, perhaps."

"So what next?"

"Proceed with clearing." Overhearing the team's discussion, the fellow seethed with anger. As the daring plan surfaced, the squad steeled up, ready to sub stones for the devices.

Reality.

In the shadows.

Next to the explosive.

Heeding the ticking timer, ignorant of the impending fate, the mental strain proved crushing.

"Whew!"

Eventually.

Several held shoes firm, loaded stones for weight, and relieved the fellow.

"All clear now."

Relief washed over the fellow's face, though irritation lingered; one shoe gone, but he shrugged it off, since bandaged fabric sufficed.

Rising tall.

"Push ahead."

"Understood."

Now.

No chance he'd scout first, trading spots with a teammate, advancing warily into the pitch-black woods.

Mental scars lingered in every soul.

Steady.

Steady.

Likely mere mishap.

As the saying goes.

Escaping calamity brings fortune; view it optimistically. Hitting snags early often signals smoother paths later.

True enough.

Except...

"Snap!"

"Hiss~"

The front-runner shuddered and announced, "I've triggered one as well." Abruptly, chills raced down everyone's spines; inner oaths flew once again.

Myanmar's dangers were off the charts; were these explosives handed out like candy?

"Clear it!"

Clenching jaws.

The fellow commanded.

Next.

Again, they dispersed, hunting rocks, though barely advancing.

"Snap!"

"Ah!"

"Hit one here."

"Same for me."

"..."

No fewer than six sensed the strike; others froze in shock. Was their route a packed trap zone?

Heavens.

Such rotten fortune?

"No rushing."

"Keep composed."

"In moments like these, avoid haste."

Leading the pack, the fellow calmed the nerves, vowing silently that once secure, he'd give the scouts a real shock.

"Move slow, retreat to the bank for rocks, steer clear of uncharted brush."

Post-frenzy.

Taming racing pulses, the squad's expertise shone. They retraced steps for stones, while the ticks felt less daunting.

Fear ebbed.

Before long.

Six barefoot yet grateful for intact limbs.

"Forward."

Through gritted teeth, the fellow directed anew, but uttering it stirred unease. In under three hundred meters, seven triggers.

Further on.

A vast stretch remained!

Talk subsides.

The team ventured once more.

One minute in.

"Snap!"

"..."

Strike +1.

Three minutes on.

Strike +1.

...

Half hour passed.

Strike +33.

By now.

Spirits teetered on breaking. Crossing few hills, they'd tallied over forty strikes, with no losses.

Still, the thrill was overwhelming.

"Say, could those be phony explosives?" One abruptly wondered, "No clashes between Myanmar and Thailand."

"So why lay so many?"

This.

Sparked widespread musing.

Makes sense.

Normally, such devices signal tensions, yet relations between Myanmar and Thailand were cordial, with tight cooperation, be it to block intruders.

Or halt departures.

Pointless.

Perhaps.

Dummy traps?

However.

Though doubts grew, none dared experiment, lest activation drew guards, spelling doom.

Still.

Resentment brewed; if bogus, their terror was wasted. But the one who raised the doubt piped up again.

"Maybe alert systems?"

Words dropped.

In a heartbeat.

The group went rigid together.

Spot on!

If fakes, they must link to warnings. Real explosives seldom tick, and this realization sent shivers through them.

Blast it!

Why hadn't it dawned sooner.

If so.

They'd marched openly under watch, fully revealed. The night's bug calls and leaf whispers.

Abruptly grew sinister.

"This... surely not?" They forced uneasy laughs.

Nearby.

No words from the others.

Impossible?

Yet if accurate?

Then what?

Accepting that was tough. While wavering, the radio buzzed—Dorne from Xin’an City on the line.

"All going well?"

"Uh."

"We slipped in fine, but smooth? Hardly—the prior scouts, you certain they're solid? Mines everywhere along our path."

The fellow vented hotly.

On hearing.

Silence hit the other end.

"Mines?"

"What do you mean?"

Swiftly.

He recounted the trek's torments, leaving Dorne stunned across the connection—what plot was unfolding? Almost forty triggers?

Shooting a film?

But.

Faith in skilled allies held, though bafflement reigned; earlier recon had passed without hitches.

Now.

Chaos reigned, suggesting dire undercurrents.

Might it be.

Fresh placements not aimed at them... As notions swirled, Dorne grimaced at the notion—it faltered; the nations were partners.

Zero strife.

No call to snare routine traffickers either, leaving just one angle—that of... aimed at traffickers. Digging further.

--- Aimed at him.