Rebirth: Super Banking System

Chapter 1968: Chapter 1792: Triple Kneel

Ten minutes later.

Outside the factory.

More and more vehicles are gathering.

Roof.

Intersection.

Corner.

…

All are black-clad men from various consortiums, standing by, observing; the action is left to Kovalro, preferably without a fight.

Four hundred meters away.

Dark corner.

Two white men crouch at the corner, watching a scene they’ve only seen on TV from a distance.

Exciting.

Yet fearful.

According to logic, eavesdroppers like them rarely have a good ending.

“Should we call the police?”

“Do you want to die?”

“I want to film this.”

“Get lost.”

“I want to take a closer look.”

“Goodbye.”

Having just drunk some wine, his companion’s scare sobered him instantly.

God knows if staying here longer would get them into trouble, better to leave early and avoid getting caught up in something complicated.

Just about to retreat.

“Clank!”

Behind.

A sound of a can rolling is heard, clearly intentional.

“Who’s there?”

They turn their heads.

Instantly.

Almost scared into wetting their pants.

Three gun barrels aimed at them, reflexively, they start to run, but turn around and see their sight blackened, with several big guys ahead.

The barrels pressed against their foreheads.

Cold.

A winter night in Sweden, already below zero, the forehead is cold, hearts chill too, afraid to even move and meet God.

“We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to peek.”

Almost crying.

“Please come with us.”

“I…”

“Click!”

Not finished talking.

They are handcuffed; the consortiums temporarily don’t intervene in battle matters, but vigilance around is within their task scope, all suspicious individuals are taken away for investigation.

“We were just passing by.”

“Really.”

“We didn’t see anything, and won’t call the police.”

“Please, let us go!”

“Spare us!”

“…”

Faces mournful, too bad, no one listens.

Passing by?

Passing by at home compared to passing by on a battlefield, they’re not the same.

Calling the police?

Ha!

Who’s afraid of that, even if it turns into chaos tonight, the police will act as if they didn’t see.

Next.

They’ll face the most rigorous interrogation, without incident, these hooligans may turn a new leaf after this.

At least.

Won’t dare out at night for a while.

…

Three miles away.

Villa.

Dozen burly men gathered in the living room, smoke swirling.

Everyone’s expression is grave, ordered to stay home, not to wander; order issued by a force feared by global underworld forces.

—Kovalro.

Thus.

Dare not disobey, staying in their hideouts.

The city’s mood is odd these days, as the underworld forces, they noticed differences early on, plenty of speculations, but none they dare confirm.

Nor dare investigate.

Clearly.

This isn’t within their reach.

“Fighting broke out again.”

Distant.

A faint explosion sound affirms a large scene, each heart prays for a quick end, whether it grows isn’t their concern, this is Kovalro’s problem.

“Who can make Kovalro strike in Sweden.”

“Enemy.”

“What kind of enemy?”

“A very strong enemy, it’s the third battle now, and they haven’t been taken down, shows the opponent is tenacious, also, haven’t heard police sirens, this isn’t simple.”

“…”

Nonsense.

Grab war.

Swedish police haven’t responded; simplicity would be strange.

“Could it be related to the prize awarding?”

Someone speculates.

Strange happenings started these days, and the major event these days is the Nobel Prize awarding, precisely as the ceremony nears its end.

“Could be.”

“If related, then there’s only one possibility.”

“What?”

“Transcription source liquid!”

Instantly.

The room quiets, only the sound of smoking.

Transcription source liquid.

Honestly.

If possible, they’d want to grab it.

But knows their strength is lacking. Three major assassin organizations were destroyed, squashing undue ambitions.

Incapable.

Extending a hand.

Means death, such ruthless people not to be provoked.

“You say, is Kovalro defending or attacking?”

“Attacking, probably.”

“Yes.”

“All consortiums want it, as a wolfdog for the consortiums, Kovalro must follow through their will.”

“No doubt.”

Definitely attacking.”

No disagreement.

However.

“If attacking, and couldn’t succeed three times, how strong must the opponent be.”

Someone brings up.

Instantly.

Imagined scene surfaces, encountering, intense battle.

Three times.

Kovalro pushed back thrice, the opponent still with combat power, shows the forces opponent invested aren’t small.

“Not to be messed with!”

Everyone’s thinking the same collectively.

…

“Lost.”

Just ten minutes. Factory battle ceases, returns to Ning Jing.

Outside.

Chilled hearts, the silent factory like a giant man-eating beast, those who enter, never come out.

Second batch near twenty.

Third batch near fifty.

Ended.

Kovalro’s men are entirely accounted for inside, too terrifying, all were elites, yet fall one after another.

“Kovalro’s fourth wave of support is on the way!”

Soon.

A sound in the ears.

“Phew!”

Many people breathe easier, fortunately not calling them to action.

However.

They know this might be Kovalro’s last wave of support, being an operation team, over a hundred already is a lot.

Further losses.

No more members are likely to be deployed by Kovalro to Sweden.

Then.

Even if they don’t want, they’ll be forced.

…

Greece.

“Trash.”

Old man curses under his breath, three times, three failures.

Yes.

Enemy is strong, he admits, but at least bring some results back, don’t just fall into a pit, a scream heard.

Numbers.

Weapons.

Arrangements.

Not a bit of info got back, collapse at the very scene, even dying, die with some worth.

“This time, Kovalro brought heavy firepower, don’t believe still failing.”

Old man thinks.

That stuff, mainly as backup, never thought would really use it.

The last chance.

If not taken down.

Kovalro will withdraw from this action, nobody left.

And their forces, will become the main action group. From spectator to participant, face lost thoroughly.

…

“Tap! Tap! Tap!”

“Bang! Bang!”

Outside the factory.

Two modified business vehicles raise their back compartments, high RPM weapons spewing fiery tongues, pouring large caliber ammunition into the factory’s brick wall.

Brick simply can’t block this metal torrent, shattered to pieces.

Not far away.

A group of elite soldiers, eyes fiery, this firepower arouses passion, seems now the opponent has no way out.

Three minutes.

“Boom!”

The factory couldn’t bear, collapsed on their side.

Dust rolling!

At this moment.

Ammunition also runs dry, red gun barrels idling.

“Victory.”

Many rejoice.

However.

But just ten seconds.

“Whoosh! Whoosh!”

“Boom!”

One after another, two modified vehicles turn into fireballs.

“Eh?”

Who can tell me why the opponent also has heavy firepower?

And… so heavy.