Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2416 - 2256: Who Scattered the Nails

Suddenly.

A chill sweat drenched Dorne’s back.

This situation.

The deeper he pondered it, the more plausible it appeared, yet his strategy had been thorough—how could the information have escaped? Was there a betrayer in his team, or perhaps a flaw in the setup?

Right then.

A sharp ache pierced his mind.

"What’s our next move?"

The subordinate uttered the words with a grave tone, pulling Dorne from his thoughts. In this instant, pulling back was the smart choice, but reluctance burned within him, fueling his anger.

The mission remained in its setup phase, forcing them to abandon it now.

This.

Marked the initial setback in his line of work. Besides, without uncovering the root of this chaos, a repeat loomed in the future.

In essence.

He found himself trapped with no easy escape.

Ultimately.

Logic overpowered his fury.

"Pull back!"

"Understood."

...

At the location.

The subordinate drew in a steady breath.

"Press on."

At that juncture.

He had prepared to withdraw, but with Dorne’s command to proceed, they pushed forward. Though dread gripped him, obeying Dorne seemed the proper path.

Still.

A detour via the alternate path became essential.

"Move."

"Trail behind."

"..."

The team resumed their advance.

On this occasion.

They followed the secondary trail and avoided further explosives, easing their tension and rebuilding a sliver of assurance, even as grumbles echoed among them.

Advancing.

Pressing ahead.

"Ouch!"

"Another step on one?"

"..."

The cry sent shivers through the group.

"No, a viper just struck me. Hand over the antidote fast." The victim’s voice trembled in fear, as many had changed to cloth footwear.

Of course.

Such shoes offered scant defense against bites, and even a graze that broke skin posed a threat. Learning it was merely a serpent, the others exhaled in relief—not another blast device.

"Where did it go?"

"Slithered away."

"..."

Fine.

Veterans in the bunch could identify the threat without spotting it. After checking the injury and quizzing the bitten man on symptoms,

One shot.

"That should do it—no issues now."

Scarce had the statement ended.

"Ouch!"

Another startling cry erupted.

"A snake got me too."

Next.

They delivered yet another dose.

"Ouch!"

"These cursed serpents."

"..."

Increasingly, the sneaky reptile struck more victims. Before long, ten lay wounded, rendering the squad mute with shock. This creature proved ruthless.

Its velocity, breathtaking.

A swift strike.

Then vanished into the foliage.

Fuming with clenched jaws, "Push through this stretch fast—our snake venom antidote is dwindling, so speed up."

With those words.

They accelerated their steps.

From a steady stride.

To a brisk trot. This round, no fresh bites occurred, and the team sensed they had passed the reptile’s territory, granting immense solace.

Regrettably.

The elation proved short-lived.

"Ouch!"

Once more?

Scanning about, the fifth member huddled low, gripping his leg and yelling, "Who scattered nails in this spot? Show some respect."

Agony!

A burning torment that brought tears to a tough guy’s eyes; his outburst drew winces from all. Closer look confirmed a nail indeed.

An mishap.

It had to be unintended.

"I’ll hoist you." A comrade volunteered, clearly unwise to yank it free on-site.

Proceeding.

They forged onward.

"Ouch!"

"..."

"Ouch!"

"..."

"Blasted, nails everywhere in this mess."

"..."

Within under a quarter hour.

Nearly fifty percent now relied on the rest for transport. Presently, they resembled anything but skilled, seasoned thieves—more akin to displaced wanderers.

Irritation.

Despair.

They yearned to vent but feared raising voices, bottling up the suffocation. Glancing at the disheveled crew trailing him, the subordinate felt lost; what use was such a battered force?

Simply recovering.

Might demand a full week.

Currently.

Eluding pursuit counted as victory.

Reflecting.

A pounding noise reached his ears once more.

"Ouch!"

"Splash!"

"A pitfall."

As it happened.

The front-runner had tumbled into a profound hole. Fortunately, no pointed stakes lined it, though its depth exceeded three meters and a half, with pooled rain unable to escape.

The liquid within reached one and a half meters.

Thus.

He endured an abrupt soak.

Freezing.

Down to the marrow.

Silently.

He tossed down a cord. Leveraging his robust grip, he scaled the edge, panting fiercely with residual terror, "I’m fine—it’s probably just bad luck."

"Stay alert." The chief warned.

"Let another lead."

Oh!

He abruptly grasped that, aside from him, all others bore the weight of the hurt, forcing him back to the vanguard.

Skirting the crater.

Advancing further.

This round.

He wielded a branch, testing the ground as he went.

After ten minutes.

"..."

Staring at the muck up to his waist, eyes fixed on the night sky, he longed for home. He itched to confront the recon team himself—why omit this bog from reports?

Argh!!!

A surge of lethal intent filled him.

Damn.

Was this an outright sabotage?

Turning around.

Numerous underlings flailed too, in frenzy, on the verge of submerging. The subordinate’s expression turned hopeless, despite his vast wilderness expertise.

Yet.

Entombed in mire.

Without outside aid, escape proved extraordinarily tough, viable only if the sludge held some solidity. Should the flow surpass a limit,

An individual.

Couldn’t break loose.

No footing nearby.

Ha ha!

It was finished.

This instance spelled true doom, facing gradual burial by the quagmire, then vanishing forever, no trace remaining—a gruesome end.

Presently.

Just one option remained.

"Faster."

"Fire away, we’ve got signal rockets—unleash every one to summon rescue." Survival trumped the objective now.

Hearing this.

They seized the desperate lifeline.

"Bang!"

"Whiz!"

"..."

Distress rockets soared upward, glaring vividly against the dark.

"You fools."

"Launch them sequentially, not in a bunch." The subordinate bellowed in rage; discretion no longer mattered—they could roar freely at last.

Afterward.

The group steadied somewhat.

Yet.

The descent persisted unabated; their sole wish was for spotters to detect the bursts and dispatch choppers, the last chance before total immersion.

Failing that.

Ground teams trekking in would arrive too late to save them.

"Exactly."

"We’re armed—blast the sky."

Basically.

For life’s sake, heedless of any listeners nearby, they unpacked firearms and fired skyward at three-second intervals.

Sixty seconds.

...

Three hundred seconds.

...

Six hundred seconds.

No reply came; utter hopelessness gripped them as the sludge neared their necks. Mere moments more, and rescue would prove impossible.

Nevertheless.

They refused to cease, continuing shots and rockets.

"Ouch!"

A fresh noise heightened their strain; another serpent? A facial strike would torment even in demise.

Still.

The tone held a hint of thrill.

"I felt a stone."

"Huh?"

"A stone?"

"That can’t be."

"..."

Confusion briefly reigned. Encountering solid rock under the bog rivaled jackpot odds. At once, all extended arms, linking up.

At last.

They clustered tightly.

Whoa!

The sinking halted.