American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 136 The Emperor said: The time has come, clock out and go home.

[I laughed while writing the Dio Chronicles, so I'm adding an extra chapter today.]

Iceberg Club.

A seaside empire standing on the shores of Gotham.

This is far from an ordinary entertainment venue.

Starting from the dazzling entrance on the ground floor, the buildings ascend layer by layer, including the casino, VIP rooms, dance floor and bar, members' restaurant and salon, iceberg-style bathing area, and observation deck.
And finally, the eighth floor.
This is the control center of the entire earthly kingdom.

It was completely different from the area downstairs where Dior had just left, filled with the scents of alcohol, perfume, and frenzied emotions.

The air here is quiet and cool.

Only the low hum of smart devices and the gentle breeze from the air conditioner could be heard.

The minimalist decor eliminates superfluous ornamentation. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's dazzling night view unfolds like a conquered scroll, silently proclaiming the power and vision that those who reside here possess.

"Diego."

A clear female voice broke the technological silence.

With a slight shift of his eyes, Dior's gaze immediately locked onto the woman standing in front of the central curved control panel.

She stood with her back to the elevator door, her posture as upright as a pine tree. She wore an extremely neat black tactical vest and matching trousers.

He wore a pair of matte military boots. His bare arms and calves were clearly defined, covered with a layer of powerful muscles, and his abs were clearly visible.

The extremely short silver inch adds to the cold and hard look.

"The boss told me to wait for you here."

As the woman spoke, she slowly turned around.

Her face wasn't exactly beautiful, but it had sharp features and piercing eyes.

"I am a lark."

She spoke, cutting straight to the point without any pleasantries:

“Mr. Coppert has given instructions. Effective immediately, the high-end casino on the second floor of the ground floor, the VIP rooms and private clubs on the third floor, your original area on the fourth floor, and the iceberg bath and special sanatorium on the sixth floor will be under your jurisdiction.”

As she spoke, her fingers tapped rapidly across the control panel.

The huge screen lit up, clearly displaying the four-layer structure diagram, real-time monitoring footage, and key operational data streams.

"The relevant access keys, list of key personnel and their contact information, and account access ports have been sent to your fourth-level master control machine. Please check and confirm."

She added, her tone businesslike.

Dio glanced at the information on the screen, showing no surprise, and simply nodded slightly.

"And another thing. Please take note, Mr. Diego."

Yun Que continued, warning, "On the second level of the casino, various forces are deeply entrenched, and money laundering channels need to be changed and audited regularly to avoid any slip-ups. The guests on the third level are all wealthy and powerful, but many also come with shady motives, requiring a very strong sense of discretion. The sixth level..."

She paused, then added, "...Involving some clients' 'special' health needs, material management and personnel confidentiality are of paramount importance."

"After all, these things."

She abruptly changed the subject, and the main screen behind her switched to a different image.

Ultimately, it all serves the very core, and also the most dangerous, source of profit on the iceberg—

The complex floor plan disappeared, and the screen displayed a series of encrypted logistics information, blueprint segments, and some blurry surveillance screenshots.

"arms."

"Mr. Cobblestone is one of the biggest 'toy suppliers' in Gotham and even the East Coast."

“The seventh underground floor is the main warehousing and transshipment hub, but the cash flow, customer relationships, and even some ‘special sample’ displays on the ground floor are all closely linked to this business.”

"Your new territory is an important 'face' and 'lubricant' for this industry chain."

"You need to make sure they are absolutely smooth, safe, and..."

"Under no circumstances should the traces of these 'toys' be allowed to affect the 'entertainment experience' of those respectable guests upstairs. Do you understand?"

Dior nodded without saying anything more.

He certainly understood that this notification defined both the scope of his authority and the risks and responsibilities he needed to bear, two sides of the same coin.

but.
Aren't these tasks usually delegated to subordinates?
Is Rocman, a grown man, just a nobody?
Dio couldn't help but mutter a cold complaint in his mind, increasingly finding the management system of the Iceberg Club utterly chaotic and laughable.

That fat penguin seemed to have a morbid obsession with power and an excessive sense of insecurity.

They only dared to fragment power and hand it over to a few so-called 'confidants,' which resulted in idiots like Ogilvy occupying important positions in middle management, while those who actually did the work were left holding back.

Too
Otherwise, even that idiot Ogilvy wouldn't be able to climb up.

"Any more questions?" Hibari asked.

"."

Dior casually raised his wrist and glanced at the expensive watch.

On the dial, the slender hour hand is incredibly close to the Roman numeral XII at the top.

Twelve o'clock at midnight.

then
After Hibari adjusted his posture, he took a deep breath, his lungs slightly open, clearly intending to speak again.
Dior didn't say a word, but turned around and walked back towards the elevator he had come from.

"."

The lark was completely stunned.

For a rare moment, blankness and astonishment appeared in those usually calm eyes.

She stared at Dior's back, which showed no hesitation whatsoever, as if he had merely listened to an insignificant report, and for a moment she didn't even react.

Leaving now?

Mr. Cobblestone, what kind of guy did you hire?
Although at present, he is only being given the management of four relatively independent floors in the ground area, which together account for about 15 percent of the club system, which can be considered a trial delegation of power.

But isn't this attitude a bit too arrogant and casual?
He didn't even ask any questions, confirm any details, or pledge his loyalty; that was it.
gone?

Rushing to clock out?! This isn't a 9-to-5 accounting firm!

An indescribable sense of absurdity welled up in the lark's heart.

She handled countless handovers.
I've seen ambitious people, cautious people, and grateful people, but this is the first time I've seen someone who doesn't take the immense power and the deadly risks that come with it seriously at all.

She opened her mouth as if to call out to Dio, but ultimately kept it closed.

Her professionalism allowed her to suppress all her emotions.

Forget it.

She took a deep breath and resumed her expressionless state.

The boss's decision naturally had its deeper considerations. Perhaps this man named Diego truly possessed some kind of capital and ability that they hadn't yet seen, enough to support his actions. She stopped looking at the closed elevator door, turned back to the control panel, and calmly began entering the permission change record, officially adding Diego's name to the monitoring list of the Iceberg Club's core management.

"Om-!"

The elevator descended smoothly, and the interior lighting was soft and constant.

Dior watched the floor numbers steadily decrease, his expression calm.

For him, taking over the territory was merely a formality.

True intelligence gathering and absolute control are never achieved by relying on lists provided by others.

After all, other people's frameworks are always full of unpredictable loopholes and traps.

We still have to rely on ourselves to discover, verify, seize, and build.

And now, he had something far more important than listening to that silver sparrow ramble on about Copeport's toy business.
Before twelve o'clock.

He must get home!
When Dior pushed open the heavy side door that was almost integrated with the wall.

The salty, damp sea breeze that is unique to Gotham at night blows in your face.

But what made his smooth steps falter slightly was the scene outside the door.

Not only was Roccoman waiting there, but behind him stood a group of waiters in crisp uniforms, each one holding their breath in a solemn silence.
What surprised him even more was...

The waitress named Selena was leaning lazily against a vintage street lamppost.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her clothes outlining her graceful curves. A knowing smile played on her lips, like a cat that had anticipated its prey's path and precisely timed his appearance.

His black Harley-Davidson motorcycle was parked quietly to the side.
The car body was polished to a shine, reflecting a cold luster in the dim night, like a work of art that had just come off the production line.

Dior nodded expressionlessly, acknowledging their efficiency.

He walked straight to his car, and without turning his head, casually gave an order to Rocman, who was following closely behind:
“Listen, Rocman. You will be primarily responsible for the daily operations and customer maintenance on the second, third, and sixth floors. If you encounter any difficult situations, you will make your own judgment and handle them yourself. You don’t need to report to me for everything.”

Upon hearing this, Rocman's face immediately lit up with surprise and gratitude.

This means that his real power has not been weakened by Mr. Diego's appointment, but has instead become greater due to this almost hands-off approach to absolute power delegation!

but.
Dior's next words, however, were like a pebble thrown into calm water, stunning both him and Selena, who had been eavesdropping nearby:

"And you, Miss Selena."

Dior turned his head and glanced at her with his red eyes. "You're in charge of the fourth floor. Don't let it catch fire."

"?!"

Selena's confident smile froze instantly, and a hint of surprise flashed in her green eyes.

She hadn't expected that the king would not only remember her, a mere servant, but would also so directly entrust her with such a sensitive and important task.
No? You know me so well?
This is no ordinary waiter's job!
Dio didn't give them any time to process or ask questions. After giving his instructions, he reached out to take his helmet from the waiter next to him.

Mr. Diego

Rocman spoke, gesturing for his men to bring over two heavy black briefcases.

Dior frowned, looking at the box, his tone clearly displeased:
I didn't do anything tonight.

“Sir, you’ve misunderstood.” The junior manager quickly bowed and explained, with a hint of caution, “This isn’t tonight’s…payment. This was ‘cleared’ from Ogilvy’s private vault.”

"About three million in cash, all old bills, very clean."

"As per your instructions, we have already returned all the money he withheld and fined over the past few days, along with triple compensation, to the affected employees in full, or even more. This is the remaining unclaimed portion."

Upon hearing this, Dior's brows relaxed slightly; he understood.

He glanced at the two boxes, then at the waiters around him who stood respectfully, but whose eyes betrayed their nervousness.

"Since it's money taken from a pigsty, then..."

Amidst everyone's astonished gazes, he casually raised his chin and said to Rocman:

"It's your internal welfare fund. The two of them will discuss and set the rules for how it's used. It can be used for medical care, emergencies, or based on who performs well."

"!?"

After he finished speaking, the scene fell into dead silence.

Immediately, an immense, unbelievable ecstasy nearly burst through the parking lot ceiling!

The waiters were so excited that their faces turned red, and they exchanged shocked and ecstatic glances, almost jumping up!
His gaze toward Dior was filled with unprecedented fervor and loyalty!

More than three million! As their welfare fund?!
The king's actions and boldness completely won them over!
Is this still Gotham?!
Did you go and take over the Metropolis across the street?
But Dio seemed not to hear the cheers behind him. He simply put on his helmet, mounted his Harley, and started the engine.

The deep, powerful roar instantly drowned out the noise.

"Your Majesty~"

Like a nimble cat, she snuggled up to him, Selena reaching out to wrap her arms around his waist, her voice sweet and alluring, "Want to go for a drive? Can I come along? I know some of the best spots for seeing Gotham at night—I promise you won't be bored!"

"roll."

Dior did not hesitate at all.

Without even turning around, he suddenly twisted the accelerator—

"boom!"

Harley shot off like a black beast unleashed, its powerful momentum nearly throwing Selena, who was trying to catch up, away. She was left standing there, watching his retreating figure disappear into the distance, stomping her feet in anger, the tips of her high heels striking the ground with a crisp sound.

"Bastard! Megaloman! Cold-blooded freak!"

I curse you to be single forever!

Selena breathed out a puff of cold air, her pretty face filled with displeasure.

They just casually dumped all the trouble on her and Rocman!
Damn it, she's just here for a part-time job! She's also here to gather intelligence and earn some pocket money for her 'main job'!

But now, wouldn't her precious nighttime "main job" time be greatly reduced?!

That despicable Diego
Selena gritted her teeth, but only for a moment. Her emerald eyes darted around, looking in the direction Dio had disappeared, and a sly smile slowly crept onto her lips.

You want to boss me around, Selena?
It's not that easy, Your Majesty.

She immediately had a little plan in her mind.

ten minutes later.

Near the entrance to the interstate highway leading to the outskirts of Gotham City, a lithe black figure darted out of the shadows like a black cat.

He was supporting himself on his knees, breathing slightly heavily.
结果
All that could be seen was a wide, empty road with only a few scattered vehicle lights.

"What the hell?! What kind of monstrous driving skills does that guy have?! Does he think the speed limit doesn't exist on this road?! Doesn't he even slow down when going around corners?!"

She had originally planned to use a light motorcycle, which she had prepared in advance and hidden by the roadside, to discreetly follow the mysterious king and see where he was going.
Maybe we can catch something interesting.

结果
Forget about following them, she could barely see their taillights!
Is that still a Harley?!
Looking ahead at the road where Dior had long since disappeared, Selena gasped for breath and could only stomp her foot in frustration.

(End of this chapter)