American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 187 Dio: The Long Christmas (Part 2) - With the Four Great Houses of Gotham

At noon, in the Crystal Hall of the Iceberg Club.

The brand-new crystal chandelier illuminated the room with dazzling brilliance.

The air was filled with the aroma of aged champagne and the rich, meaty scent of perfectly roasted premium beef, all intertwined with the expensive, fragrant perfumes worn by the socialites and ladies.

This resulted in a sweet and cloying fragrance.

The Christmas charity luncheon was held as scheduled.

Under the smooth and appropriate guidance of director Rocman Wick, celebrities from all walks of life in Gotham mingled among the crowd.

On the surface, it was truly a peaceful and harmonious place.

It gives people a sense of the Iceberg Club's booming development.

but
Upon closer inspection, one can discern that behind every polite smile lies a pair of calculating eyes, and every seemingly warm toast may be a silent test of interests.

Take, for example, this man standing alone in a noisy corner.
Holding a glass of barely touched soda, the man's slightly worn suit stood out starkly against the glittering luxury around him, like a shadow that didn't belong there.

Only those tired eyes remained fixed on the blond figure who seemed to be handling the banquet hall with ease.

His gaze tried to penetrate that perfect social mask, to find, amidst that elegant demeanor and proper conversation, a trace of arrogance belonging to superhuman power, or a crack that might endanger Gotham.

He just kept staring and staring.
until
"Gordon."

A light, familiar male voice sounded beside me.

Gordon tilted his head slightly in surprise. After all, in this mixed place where everyone wore masks, few people would take the initiative to greet an out-of-place detective.

The last one to do this was that penguin trying to get close to the other penguin.

However, after seeing the person's face clearly, his nerves relaxed slightly.

Harvey Dante.

The young prosecutor, hailed as a rising star in Gotham's legal system, was wearing a well-fitting dark suit, his handsome face radiating confidence as he walked steadily toward me.

Undoubtedly one of our own.

Perhaps, he was the only person in this magnificent crystal hall with whom he could truly connect.

"Mr. Harvey."

Gordon nodded, his voice low.

"Seeing you here is a relief."

He added that this was indeed the truth.

Harvey moved closer and smiled as he clinked glasses with Gordon.

Just now, as he surveyed the entire Crystal Hall, the glittering clothes and elegant figures made him uncomfortable with the fake smiles and hidden schemes. But thankfully, he finally spotted Gordon's face, which was filled with honesty and weariness, and found a sliver of solace in being with someone who shared his ideals.

“Me too, Chief Jim.”

Harvey chuckled and addressed the rising star of Gotham's police force with a familiar nickname.

Shrugging, Gordon took a symbolic sip of the now-flattened soda water in his glass.

Then, he slightly shifted his body to the side, naturally forming a small circle between the two of them, separating them from the surrounding glitz and glamour.

Seeing Gordon's tacit agreement, Harvey smiled knowingly, understanding that the other shared the same vigilance.

He leaned closer, lowered his voice, and his gaze involuntarily drifted once more to the blond figure surrounded by the crowd in the distance:

What do you think, Jim?

“This Mr. Dior, and his… ‘Iceberg Club’,” Harvey Dent said with obvious doubt. “Everything is too perfect, too…smooth.”

"An outsider, in such a short time, not only has he established himself here, but he has even made people like Copeport seem... well-behaved."

I can't see through him.

Gordon took a sip of his ice-cold soda, glancing instinctively behind him. He shook the glass, causing the ice cubes to bounce against the sides, making a soft, crisp sound to keep his tense nerves from relaxing.

"Mr. Harvey."

He confessed, "This man has no criminal record, at least not on the surface."

"Moreover, his club is a hundred times cleaner to run than those businesses owned by Falcone or Maroni."

"There are even donations, charities, and invitations to the police and prosecutors..."

Everything was done flawlessly.

He paused, lowering his voice even further: "But it is precisely this 'perfection' that makes me most uneasy. He clearly possesses a power that we cannot comprehend, Jim."

"What happened that night, although it was covered up, you know it and I know it too."

“He may be following the rules now simply because following the rules is in his best interest ‘at present’.”

"But what if one day he finds the rules in the way..."

"I understand, Jim."

Harvey's expression turned serious as he continued, "He won't just become the next Falcone or Maroney; he might become the most dangerous man in Gotham's history."

Harvey's words abruptly stopped. He was about to continue his analysis when Gordon suddenly stopped him with a look and subtly raised his chin in a certain direction.

Harvey immediately understood and stopped talking.

The two men tacitly raised their glasses and pretended to continue their conversation, but their feet subtly moved toward the center of the banquet hall.

There, I met the most dazzling figure in the entire Gotham world.
Bruce Wayne is standing in front of Dio at this moment.

Their exchange undoubtedly stirred the nerves of countless people and attracted the full attention of Gordon and Harvey.

"...Have you finished working in the fields?" Dio asked calmly. "Did you sneak out to attend the banquet?"

"My teacher gave me the day off himself." With a subtle undertone that only those who knew him well could detect, Bruce replied, "I wouldn't do something as tasteless as skipping class."

"It's best..."

Dio gave a soft snort, seemingly expressing doubt about Bruce's self-discipline.

“Of course.” Bruce shrugged nonchalantly, then skillfully changed the subject: “Have you prepared your Christmas presents yet?”

"You're not coming tonight, so why are you asking me?" Dio retorted.

"Although I'm not there in person."

Bruce swirled his glass, his smile widening:
“I’ve asked your brother to pass on my message.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice: “I paid him three thousand dollars to dress up as Santa Claus at night and stuff the farm kids’ stockings with dollars.”

"..."

Dior paused for a moment, then commented, "...superficial."

"This is not superficial at all; it's the most direct form of happiness."

Bruce shrugged, then, as if remembering something, casually pulled a pre-filled check from his inner pocket and smoothly slipped it into the pocket of Dior's suit jacket. "Here, a charity donation. Here you go. I don't want to be called out by you on stage later; that would be too embarrassing."

"At least you have some self-awareness, Bruce."

Dior seemed to have anticipated this move and showed no surprise. He simply raised his glass and casually tapped it lightly against Bruce's champagne glass, producing a soft, crisp sound.

After the brief exchange, Bruce acted as if he had completed a task.

He turned around again, his carefree smile returning to his face, and walked briskly towards a group of socialites and ladies who had been eagerly awaiting his arrival.

He wanted to find a way to put the 'fatigue' he had felt over the past few days on the farm behind him.

Dior, on the other hand, continued to move like a king on a royal tour, weaving through the surging crowds and receiving greetings from all sides, some respectful and some obsequious.

Gordon and Harvey, who remained where they were, looked at each other in bewilderment.

"'Farmland'? 'Teacher'? 'Brother'? Stuffed with US dollars?"

Harvey repeated these fragmented words in a low voice, his handsome face full of confusion. "Jim, what are they talking about?"

"Party animal Bruce, playboy Wayne, and this king seem to have... an unusual relationship?"

Gordon nodded, his brow furrowing even more deeply.

"he"

Just as Gordon was about to voice his concerns, he was interrupted by a slightly heated argument coming from not far away.

The two exchanged a glance and, without hesitation, stopped their discussion about Dio and Bruce, turning their attention to the source of the sound.

In one corner of the banquet hall, a tall, thin middle-aged man in an expensive suit, whose fierceness was still evident in his brows, was arguing with another middle-aged man who was slightly overweight and had a ruddy complexion.

Both of them deliberately lowered their voices, but their excited body language and barely suppressed anger stood out starkly against the backdrop of feigned harmony.

Beside them, a middle-aged man with gray hair, wearing a traditional three-piece suit and leaning on a silver cane, was frowning and trying to calm both sides down.

He looked dignified, but there was also a lingering weariness and helplessness about the situation between him and others.

"Theonis? Elliott? Mr. Philip Kane?"

Using his professional memory, Harvey Dent called out the three men's names in a low but accurate voice, his brows furrowed. "How did they end up arguing here?"

But looking at those unfamiliar faces, Gordon shook his head:
"Who are they? They don't look like ordinary businessmen."

“Of course, he’s not an ordinary businessman.” Harvey sighed, turned his head and explained to Gordon in a low voice, his tone full of understanding, “You were only recently transferred back to Gotham and just promoted to police chief. It’s normal that you’re not familiar with the intricate network of Gotham’s underworld relationships, as you’ve focused all your energy on street crimes.”

"actually."

He gestured for Gordon to look at the group and continued, "Before the rise of the Falcone and Maroney families, the true rulers of Gotham were four ancient families."

"Wayne, Kane, Elliott, and Cobbert."

"They are the 'four pillars' that Gotham has had since its founding."

"The Wayne family, needless to say, Bruce is currently their only direct representative. Their wealth, businesses, and potential influence are unmatched in Gotham; they are a business empire in Gotham and even globally. And the Kane family..."

Harvey gestured to the white-haired old man with his eyes:
"That is, the family to which Mr. Philip Kane belongs, which is related to the Wayne family by marriage. They also have a long history, but in recent years they have kept a very low profile and have almost withdrawn from the public eye. They only focus on running some traditional industries and charitable foundations."

“The Elliott family,” he looked at the slightly overweight man, “was once very prominent, with deep roots in the medical and real estate sectors, but they have also been quiet for a long time. I didn’t expect Cassius Elliott to be here today.”

As for the Copport family

Harvey paused, glancing at the round penguin in the corner who was laughing gleefully over the argument, a smugness that seemed completely out of character for the place's inhabitants. His tone held a hint of wistfulness:
"Then, more than a decade ago, Oswald Coppert, the last direct descendant of the family, reappeared in the public eye as a small-time bartender, and climbed to his current position step by step through ruthlessness and shrewdness."

"In a sense, this already signifies the complete stripping away of the ancient 'Coppert family' from their status as members of high society."

"The concept of the 'Four Families,' which once symbolized the core of Gotham's power, has gradually disappeared and faded from the city's mainstream narrative, becoming mere material in the archives."

"In its place is..."

Harvey glanced at the still-arguing Theonis and Elliott, as well as the seemingly glamorous but actually lacking in substance among the newly rich, and said in a deep voice:
“The rise of emerging families like Theonis.”

"They seized the opportunity presented by Gotham's industrial transformation and the decline of the old families to rapidly accumulate wealth and influence, eager to fill the power vacuum."

"."

Following Harvey's gaze and explanation, Gordon understood immediately.

This is not just a simple verbal argument, but a microcosm of the changing power structure in Gotham.

The ghosts of the past collide with the ambitions of the new generation at this Iceberg Club.

As for the reason
The two exchanged a knowing glance and continued to move closer without making a sound.

"Uncle, what happened?"

Bruce Wayne quickly noticed the commotion and skillfully distanced himself from the women around him, his face showing just the right amount of concern.

He leaned closer to Philip Kane and asked:

"Do you need help?"

"."

Philip glanced at Bruce, who was surrounded by women on either side of him and had just emerged from a group of them, but said nothing.

"Haha. Hahaha." Bruce chuckled awkwardly, "I didn't mean to avoid you, I just really didn't notice you were here."

He tried to cover up his embarrassment with his usual nonchalance, but his acting skills were clearly not up to par in front of the elders who really knew him.

However, Philip had no intention of pursuing the matter at this point.

He sighed, tapped the ground lightly with his silver cane, glanced at Theonis and Elliott who were still glaring at each other, and explained to Bruce in a low voice:

"What else could it be? It's business."

"It must be for the distribution rights in Gotham for Luther Enterprises' latest 'Regeneration Potion 0.5'."

"Rebirth potion?"

Bruce paused, his nonchalant expression softening slightly. He lowered his voice as well, confirming, "Is it the 'Rebirth' from Lionel Luther of Metropolis?"

"Ah."

Philip nodded slightly:
“Elliott still wants to monopolize these cutting-edge medical resources, relying on his family’s traditional influence in the medical field to monopolize them.”

“But Richard Cionis felt that times had changed, and this time his family should also use their strength and new channels to get a share of the pie.”

Their conversation was low, but loud enough for Gordon and Harvey, who were not far away, to hear clearly.

Rebirth potion?

Harvey and Gordon exchanged a knowing glance.

They had also heard rumors about this miraculous potion that had spread from Metropolis and was supposedly being promoted by Lionel Luther.

In a sense, it truly was a miracle drug, advertised as being able to repair tissue damage and even cure certain genetic diseases.
Even more outrageous, it is said that in some restricted clinical trials, a phenomenon almost like 'limb regeneration' has occurred.

Although the official report was vague
But the rumors circulating in private are enough to tempt anyone in power.

It's no wonder that Theonis and Elliott would disregard decorum and argue in hushed tones in such a setting. The interests involved and the potential for increased influence in the future are truly astonishing.

The waters involved are unfathomable, far more complex than mere commercial agency deals; they likely involve much larger-scale capital operations and a potential reshuffling of power.

Gordon and Harvey tacitly stopped moving forward and instead moved their feet slightly away.

唉呀
Gordon clicked his tongue inwardly in amazement.

If you listen to it any more, you'll lose your sense of feeling.

However, just as the two retreated, another figure intervened in the dispute.

Mario Falcone.

This current public representative of the Falcone family, with a slick smile on his face, attempted to intervene and mediate.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, why get angry on such a beautiful holiday?"

He laughed it off, his loud voice trying to ease the tension.

But his gaze still unconsciously drifted to Dior not far away.

Clearly, his intervention at this moment is largely aimed at saving face for his collaborator on their turf and maintaining a semblance of harmony.

"If there's any business to discuss, we can sit down and talk it over."

However, Theonis and Elliott, who were both in a fit of anger, were clearly not buying it.

Theonis snorted coldly, while Elliott completely ignored Mario, his gaze still fixed on him.

Just as the atmosphere was not easing, but rather becoming more awkward and stiff due to Mario's untimely intervention, a calm voice rang out at the opportune moment.

The voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of the people at the center of the argument:

"It seems that my poor hospitality has dampened the two gentlemen's enthusiasm for business discussions."

Dior had appeared out of nowhere and stood right in front of them.

He held a glass of wine that was so red it was almost purple, and his red eyes swept over Theonis and Elliott with a faint look.

He didn't release any aura, but his mere arrival, his words that revealed no emotion, and his perfectly condescending attitude made the surrounding air freeze instantly!
Even the Christmas carols and laughter in the background seemed to have been muted.

What surprised all the onlookers even more was...

Cassius Elliott, who had previously been unusually tough, lost his anger the moment he heard Dio's voice and met his calm gaze, replaced by an almost instinctive restraint.

“Mr. Richard, it seems this isn’t the place to discuss serious matters.” His tone softened considerably, avoiding direct eye contact with Dio and turning his gaze to Theonis:
"Let's talk in my office afterwards."

Seeing that Elliott, who was known for his toughness and stubbornness, had backed down first because of Dio's casual remark, Theonis's anger instantly subsided by more than half, replaced by great surprise and a hint of caution.

He glanced at Elliott, whose attitude had suddenly changed, and then at Dio, who remained expressionless, as if he understood something.

Richard Cionis nodded, offering a slight, deliberate gesture:
"...Okay. We'll talk about it later."

A conflict that seemed poised to escalate was averted so easily and temporarily with just a few words from Dior.

The crowd of onlookers included Gordon Harvey and Mario Coppola.
Their eyes flashed with barely suppressed surprise.

They looked at each other, a similar wave of shock washing over them:

Cassius Elliott...

This old-fashioned family representative, who was known for his toughness and even some inhumanity, and who might not even give face to the Falcone family, actually backed down so decisively, or even eagerly, because of Dior's words.

The owner of this Iceberg Club not only wields considerable influence in the underworld and among emerging powers, but also wields unique power over Gotham's deeply entrenched and ancient families!
Without glancing at them again or commenting on the minor incident, Dior turned and calmly blended into the glittering crowd behind him, his golden hair tracing an elegant arc under the lights.

But this seemingly casual move of his...
Yet, in the hearts of all discerning people, it once again etched its unfathomable authority.

Shooting away the glamorous women who were still trying to sidle up to him, Bruce Wayne quietly stood beside his uncle Philip Kane, his eyes following Dio's retreating figure as he disappeared into the crowd, sighing in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Uncle, did you see that? My friend here, isn't he amazing?"

"Is this why you specifically asked me to come? Let me tell you, most of Elliott and Theonis only accepted the invitation because they knew the two of us would be there."

"Are you trying to get a favor from him? Or what?"

Philip Kane leaned on his cane, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes. "And...you've been away from Gotham these past few days, you've been to his place?"

Philip's barrage of words left him somewhat helpless.

This is why Bruce saw this man in the hall and reacted like a mouse to a cat.
His uncle's analysis was always so rambling.

"Yes, I found a teacher. He's also Afu's savior."

Bruce responded briefly, pointing out the reason.

"...That's it."

Philip let out a soft breath, confirming a certain guess:

"No wonder you asked me to stand up for him."

"And if I'm not mistaken, Cassius Elliott isn't afraid of you, his 'friend,' but rather he's testing him..."

“The teacher is also Dad’s friend,” Bruce chuckled, interrupting his uncle’s analysis.

Thomas has left you this trick up your sleeve.

His rambling was abruptly interrupted, and a genuine look of surprise flashed across Philip Kane's face. Clearly, this information was beyond his expectations, although this surprise quickly turned into a sigh mixed with emotion and worry.

Patting his nephew's shoulder, where strands of a woman's hair were loose, Philip said earnestly:
"Bruce, you can relax a bit."

"But Gotham won't slow down because of you."

"Ah."

The young man responded with a sound of agreement, without saying anything more.
-
PS:

One update first, two updates in the morning: one to wrap things up, and one bonus chapter.

Family members, go to sleep first.

(End of this chapter)