Rebirth: Super Banking System Chapter 2417 - 2257: Breakdown

During the time that followed.

Amid the swamp.

"Bang!"

"Whoosh!"

"Bang!"

"..."

Endless noises echoed, flashes lit the sky repeatedly, yet nearly an hour passed without spotting any Myanmar border guards.

Right then.

They felt utterly broken.

Worn out.

Worried.

Didn’t they say Myanmar’s forces acted fast? After all this noise, no one seemed to notice them at all.

The disappointment stung deeply.

They’d arrived full of energy, but no one came, leaving them completely worn down, maybe the most pitiful group of robbers ever.

Luckily.

It was peak summer, the heat wasn’t too bad, so they wouldn’t get cold. The leader in the center was drained, with mounting stress from his comrades pressing on him.

Plus.

The thick mud rose above their shoulders, turning every breath into a struggle.

...

All of a sudden.

"Hey!"

"I’ve got a rock under me too!"

Close by.

A big fellow shouted, and those nearby froze, while the taller guys, fearing they’d get stuck, shifted around and called out as well.

"Me too."

"I feel one as well."

"..."

In the end.

They verified the swamp’s depth was roughly 1.7 meters, so the taller members didn’t have to fear drowning, sparking instant thrill among them.

"Haha, awesome, now we can shift around." The leader declared with joy.

Moments earlier.

They’d assumed it was only a single mound.

At present.

With the depth confirmed, they could casually retrace their path, and the distance wasn’t long; what was once blocked now offered real promise.

Thus.

The team started treading on the stones to cross the bog.

Thankfully.

Up to the rim.

The water level stayed similar; they swiftly scaled the solid mud bank, even though navigating the swamp had sapped their strength.

All of them were beat.

"Huff!"

"Huff!"

"..."

Panting hard, they recalled how each inhale back there felt agonizing, the swamp’s sludge pressing far heavier than mere water, complicating every breath.

Now.

A wave of relief washed over them.

"Should we press on?"

Clearly.

The alternate path got scrapped.

"Pull back," the leader ordered.

This round.

Regardless, the raid was off, burdened by wounds and fatigue, the whole crew was rattled deep down—how could they execute the plan?

Impossible!

Perfectly timed.

Comms were out too, so withdrawing first made sense, safely extracting the hurt ones was already a win, and the job could wait for another day.

Relief spread through them.

The squad cheered up, particularly the wounded, who’d been marinating in the muck for ages and dreaded infection from delayed care.

It might leave permanent scars.

...

Therefore.

They gathered their gear.

Heading back.

If dumping the tools was an option, they’d do it, since nothing was too pricey; earlier they’d wished for patrols, now they hoped to avoid them entirely.

Moving along.

Sending silent pleas.

Unfortunately.

In a cursed operation like this, such hopes rang hollow—they’d barely covered a kilometer when distant beams appeared.

"Wangwang!"

Followed by a canine’s howl.

Facing this.

The group freaked out.

"What do we do?"

Their way out was cut off, and fleeing into the woods? Forget it, no chance—prior paths had nearly wrecked them, and uncharted forest was suicide.

Hadn’t they had enough excitement?

Glancing left.

Peering right.

The Western leader wrestled with the choice.

With hounds along.

Escaping just got way tougher, cursing their earlier racket that drew this mess.

Now they were in deep.

Right away.

"Da da!"

The roar of rotors filled the air, the very choppers they’d begged for endlessly before, and it sounded like multiples approaching.

Next.

As they hesitated.

"Boom! Boom!"

"Bang! Bang!"

Trees nearby splintered from overhead fire, earth erupting wildly—Myanmar’s air support packed serious punch.

One blast.

Resembled artillery.

In that instant.

They were stunned.

What the heck?

Why fire without warning? Didn’t they normally demand surrender first? What kind of pace was this? Diving straight into assault, leaving no room to ponder, they dove for shelter.

Fight back?

No chance in hell!

Who’d risk it?

Retaliating would only ramp up the enemy’s barrage, their nerves already frayed—a minor nick could end it all.

Ultimately.

Within a minute, they tasted real peril. As the sky assault halted, their resolve shattered completely.

Give up.

The second someone yelled it, they all dropped arms, nobody eager for a bullet. And luckily, checks showed no injuries—everyone emerged whole.

"What was that? Random shooting?"

"Doesn’t look like it."

"Yeah, they must’ve known our position, or they wouldn’t have just hit the perimeter; they’ve got top-tier thermal imaging no doubt."

"It’s a clear warning."

"..."

While they chatted.

A command rang out from the front, "Drop your guns, step out and yield, or the next round hits you directly—thirty seconds."

"Twenty-nine."

"Twenty-eight."

"..."

"Twenty."

"..."

Deep in the woods, the English countdown left them stunned, only half a minute? Scarce time even to speak, all eyes turned to the leader.

"Why stare at me? We surrender."

Done.

He led by tossing his weapons first.

Hands behind his head.

Stepping out from the trees, the odds crushed them, no leverage for bargaining, stalling would end the same anyway.

Precisely then.

That salvo had ravaged the foliage into chaos, and as just a tech-savvy crook from a global ring, he wasn’t built for brute confrontations.

That instant.

Terrified him.

This time.

Watching.

The rest gave up calmly, sure capture meant heavy fallout, but versus getting blasted apart and dying pointlessly, with nobody accountable, that was far grimmer.

By now.

The ideal outcome was expulsion.

Slipping from a U.S. jail was straightforward with aliases, especially since many American lockups ran privately.

With a little pull.

Break free.

Even easier.

...

Meanwhile.

Xin’an New District.

The villa.

Having viewed the spectacle, Tang Qing felt pleased. The display on his screen flipped to a cartoon, he’d never planned to escalate against them, or else.

It could’ve been tenfold more intense.

When it came to combat.

The pros knew their stuff well.

Initially.

They might’ve been waved through, letting them wander as forces mobilized, but Tang Qing saw no point, mere burglars deserved no more than border antics.

Let them rampage in the urban heart?

Absolutely not!

They’d misjudged their worth big time.

As for dealing with this lot, deportation to their homelands was the plan, their skills too low for covert detention.

Plain and simple.

Just a crew of pilferers, unworthy of hogging a cell in the secure zone.