American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 245 Dior: Which foot did you step in with? Copperfield?
The rain in Gotham is like an inescapable fate for the city, always arriving unexpectedly.

Regardless of whether the raging storm swept through this city that never sleeps ahead of time.

On the street, the colorful neon lights became blurred and distorted in the increasingly heavy rain, and pedestrians hurried along, wrapped their coats tighter around themselves.

The only clear sound was the clattering of the trash can lid being flipped open by the wind.

A sense of oppression still hangs over the city.

Only the giant electronic screen in the center of the square seemed to exist as the only color in the city.

However, it also displays a disturbing satellite cloud image at this moment.
A tightly structured storm vortex, like a cold blue eye, stared intently at the center of the cloud map.

Good evening, citizens of Gotham.

"This is GNA Evening News. We have an urgent weather alert to report."

Facing the camera, the female anchor spoke a few minutes faster than usual.

She turned to the side and pointed to the satellite cloud image behind her:

"As you can see, the extremely powerful convective storm system named 'René' is heading straight for the heart of the central agricultural region with unprecedented speed and intensity."

"According to the latest data from the National Weather Service, 'René' has rapidly intensified in the past three hours, with maximum sustained winds expected to exceed 80 miles per hour, and may be accompanied by large hail and strong tornadoes."

"The destructive power of this storm should not be underestimated. Several towns in its path, including Smallwell and Lakensville, have issued the highest level of disaster warnings."

"The authorities are urgently organizing the evacuation of residents in low-lying areas and are urging all citizens to prepare for disaster prevention."

“What’s even more worrying is that ‘René’s’ path just happened to cover large areas of unharvested winter wheat in Kansas and many large livestock farms.”

"Experts predict that this storm could have a catastrophic impact on local agriculture."

She paused for a moment, letting the heavy word fall deeply into the silent studio and into the millions of homes watching on their screens.

"While Gotham is not directly affected at present, the ferocity of 'René' serves as a wake-up call. Extreme weather events due to climate change are becoming more frequent and intense."

"Anyway"

"We will continue to monitor the disaster situation in each state. Now, let's turn the camera back to the front lines..."

Screen switching.

It showed live footage from near a small town.

The camera shakes violently in the gale, revealing vast fields of winter wheat bent low and almost lying prostrate on the ground under a dim sky.

Clearly, the photographers and reporters on the front lines are also battling the storm.

After a moment, the camera seemed to finally stabilize and focus on a figure.

He was a tall young man wearing a large raincoat.

He stood alone beside an empty field, casually carrying a huge hoe in his hand, his posture...
At first glance, it doesn't seem like you're experiencing a storm that's about to escalate into a disaster, but rather enjoying a pleasant spring breeze.

The reporter's voice, broken and strained by the wind and rain, was hoarse: "Sir! We're from GBC News! Storm 'René' is about to pass through, it's very dangerous! Why aren't you taking shelter? Are you worried about your crops?!"

The tall young man seemed to be stunned for a moment, not expecting that there was someone behind him.

He turned his head, and rainwater streamed down the edge of his wide hood, obscuring his face.

"Huh? You mean take refuge? Oh, it's alright, the wind is a bit strong." The young man weighed the hoe in his hand, seemingly quite intrigued by the sudden interview. "Crops? It's a bit of a pity, but the land can always be replanted."

"I just came out to see if anyone's livestock shed needs to be reinforced, or if anyone is stuck on the road."

These words completely stunned the reporter who had been shouting himself hoarse. He almost doubted whether he had misheard or whether the person in front of him was actually a madman.

"...Aren't you even a little bit scared?! The weather forecast says this could be one of the strongest storms we've ever recorded!"

"Uh," the young man's tone remained unhurried, even carrying a perplexing sense of reassurance, "It's alright, sir. Stay calm, just find a sturdy cellar to hide in. Look, I'm standing here, I'm doing just fine..."

Hey! Why aren't you home yet?!

However, before the young man could finish his gentle words, a child's voice, clearly impatient, pierced through the wind and rain and entered the microphone precisely:

"Big, silly brother! Stop pretending to give those stupid interviews!"

"Get back here right now and take care of that 'demon orb' Dante! My brother can't hold on much longer; he and Virgil are practically tearing the house apart!"

"If you don't go back soon, your rocket model collection will be next to be demolished! Uncle Jonathan's Gundam has already been destroyed!"

"?!"

This startled not only the reporter but also the photographer battling the gale behind them, both of whom turned their cameras in shock toward the source of the sound!

To know.
There are gale-force winds of level 8 right now!
How could a child possibly—

But then, in the scene, a boy who looked no more than five or six years old, with black hair and golden eyes, wearing a delicate little jacket, was standing on the ridge of a field not far away with a displeased expression.

He stood firmly in the strong wind, not even a single strand of his hair fluttering.

"This child?!" The reporter's voice trembled. "Hey! Little guy! What are you doing here?! Get out of here! The winds are stronger than level eight! It's too dangerous!"

However, the boy seemed not to hear his exclamation at all; his bright golden eyes merely stared impatiently at the tall young man in the distance.

Even at this moment...
A stronger gust of wind suddenly swept by, carrying mud, water, and broken grass from the ground!

"Wow--!"

"Watch out for the machine!"

The photographer and the reporter both gasped at the same time, their feet slipping and propelled by the strong wind. They screamed and fell into a heap, rolling half a circle in the mud.

The microphone and camera were all taken away.

The camera spun around, revealing only a gray sky and splashes of mud.

It took several seconds for the chaotic scene to stabilize.

A small hand straightened the camera.

Then, a small face with a mischievous grin, as if it had pulled off a prank, filled the entire screen.

The boy chuckled and deliberately pointed the camera at the reporter and photographer who were struggling in the mud, trying to get up.
The camera zoomed in on their disheveled and muddy appearance.

Then, facing the camera, she spoke in a clear, announcer-like tone:
"Look, everyone, this is how ordinary humans react to natural disasters~"

"Beep——!"

Dior pressed the power button on the remote control hard, instantly turning the large screen in front of him black, completely cutting off the blood pressure-raising child's voice and the image of the reporter struggling in the mud.

The muscles at the corners of his mouth tightened involuntarily, twitching slightly, as if an invisible layer of frost had settled on his handsome face.

Luckily I arrived early today and left the things at home to Clark…

otherwise
I sank back into the expensive, soft leather sofa, which groaned softly.

Dio closed his eyes wearily; these past ten days had been incredibly difficult for him.
It was even more exhausting than navigating Gotham's underworld.
day
He had to maintain his perfect "king" image at the Iceberg Club, deal with endless conflicts of interest, and guard against the clandestine ambitions of Copport and other forces.
And at night...

Then they would have to experience the farm's 'nightmare'.

Clark, that hopeless big oaf, is wearing a cloak and traveling the world as a super volunteer.

Salafir and the new wolf girl Kayla had their minds completely on those damned animals.

As for the capital city?

Oh my god
Dior was already thankful that kid didn't cause trouble!
Therefore, the 'burden' of caring for the two babies most of the time 'naturally' fell on him.
—On Dio Kent's shoulder!

是 的
He is the emperor of Gotham, the controller of the Stand "The World," and the 'king' in the shadows of Gotham.
To my surprise, he's actually going back to his old ways!
Change the baby's diaper! Prepare the formula!

Even when awakened in the dead of night by wailing loud enough to pierce eardrums, I would then try to control the world while sleeping, performing an enhanced version of multitasking to prevent myself from going berserk due to lack of sleep!
Dior took a deep breath, trying to calm his turbulent emotions, but to little avail.

Especially when he took out his phone and looked at the vacation photos that Old Deng had sent intermittently.
Floating islands bathed in sunlight, a sumptuous feast, magnificent scenery, and... a griffin from mythology...

Whenever I see these
Dior felt a sudden itch in his back molars.
"hahaha~"

"It seems... our esteemed 'King' is not in a very good mood?"

Before the words were finished, a faint, sweet fragrance had already quietly brushed against her side.

A slender figure, like a boneless cat, leaned lazily against the edge of his large desk. Her long legs were crossed, and in the dim light, her black boots swayed gently, tracing alluring curves.

Selena Kyle.

Tonight she wore a tight-fitting dress, the material of which gleamed with a dark sheen, like her cunning cat eyes that shone in the dim light.

The dress clung tightly to every inch of her skin, perfectly outlining her breathtaking curves.

Her proud breasts, her slender waist that seemed impossible to encircle, and her pert, rounded shape that stirred the imagination.
Selena glanced at the still-lit phone in Dior's hand, and at his slightly clenched back teeth, then covered her mouth and chuckled softly:

"Which blind fool dares to provoke the 'Golden Phantom of the Iceberg'?"

"."

"Dissent against your superiors, and you'll lose a thousand."

"."

"?!"

"Do I even have a salary this month?!" Selena exclaimed angrily, her beautiful eyes widening. "If this keeps up, I won't be able to pay my rent!"

"Really? But I've never heard of that."

"In Gotham, what stray cat can't steal the fish it wants to eat? Here, even stray dogs on the street will steal your burger."

Dior slowly put down his phone, the screen went dark, temporarily sealing away that 'heavenly' scene.

He turned his head, his pupils locking onto the catwoman so close to him in the shadows, churning with irritation and a hint of displeasure at being seen through.
But it seems more like a dangerous interest that has been stirred up.

“And Miss Selena,” he drawled, his voice low, “it is not a wise move for her to pry into the King’s thoughts.”

"Especially when he... needs to find a target to 'vent' on."

He deliberately emphasized the word 'vent,' making it sound very suggestive, his naked gaze slowly dissecting the curves of her shapely body.

"Haha~"

But instead of backing down, Selena let out a soft chuckle.

She even leaned forward a little more, so close that they could almost feel each other's breaths mingling, so close that she could smell a faint scent of grape juice on Dior.

"Really?" She blinked, her long, curled eyelashes fluttering slightly. "I wonder... His Majesty wants to find a punching bag to beat up to vent his anger..."

She reached out with one hand, but stopped at the last moment before touching Dior's hand, hovering in mid-air.

Let that tantalizing heat burn his skin.

"...Or do you want to find a...softer, warmer 'way'?"

"How about relaxing your tense nerves?"

Her tone was languid and seductive, as if she were waiting for her prey to succumb to her charms.

"."

Looking at the exquisite face so close to his, feeling the extremely ambiguous atmosphere.
The irritation in Dio's heart was strangely replaced by a more primal, more conquering impulse, and the cold curve of his lips was tinged with a predatory smile.

"Om-!"

Selena only felt a blur before her eyes.

next moment.
"We'll have to try to find out." Dio had already pulled her into his arms, whispering almost in her ear, his hot breath brushing against her ear, "Whether it can extinguish the king's anger or not."

The firelight from the fireplace danced in his golden eyes, reflecting an undisguised desire.

then
To her astonishment, Dior slowly raised his other hand and, under her bewildered gaze, precisely pinched the slightly loose button on the neckline of his dress.

"?!"

Catwoman, who used to move freely and effortlessly through the Gotham night, was now completely frozen in place.

The alluring languor on her face froze, replaced by sudden surprise and a rapidly spreading blush.

She felt her cheeks burning! Terribly hot!
it's here?
At the Iceberg Club?!
On the rooftop?!

Is that damn canary still in the next room?

Is the soundproofing here... good?
She just stared blankly at her violet-embellished button, which Dior held between two fingers, and then...
He slowly and methodically fastened it back on.

His movements were fluid, natural, and even a bit... focused.

Even after doing all this, he casually brushed away non-existent dust from her shoulder. Throughout the entire process, his expression was devoid of any ambiguity, displaying only an almost obsessive perfectionism.

Seemingly sensing the stiffness of the body in his arms, Dio slowly raised his eyelids, meeting her cat-like eyes filled with embarrassment and confusion, a wicked smile curving his lips.

"What do you think it is, Miss Selena?"

He asked softly, his tone innocent.

"Your button is off by one; that's not very elegant."

"you--!"

Selena was stunned for several seconds before she finally realized that she had been completely fooled by this despicable man.

A surge of heat mixed with shame rushed to her head, making her almost want to brandish her claws on the spot.

She jerked out of Dior's arms as if burned, taking a half-step back. Her previous ease vanished, replaced by a furious feeling of being seen through and mocked.

Her chest heaved, and she let out a short, cold laugh, trying to salvage some face.

"Ha! Very good! Dior, you're amazing!"

She crossed her arms, raised her chin, and tried to mask her embarrassment with sarcasm. "If you're so tough, don't go home tonight! Come drink with me at the bar downstairs! Let's see who collapses first! Anyone who doesn't dare to come is a coward!"

"You can just drink your grape juice for the rest of your life!"

Selena made the challenge, almost with embarrassment and annoyance.
“Talking back to the boss, five hundred deducted!” Dior sneered.

"?!"

"what!"

She opened her mouth as if to say something harsh, but in the end she only uttered a single syllable with resentment.

Without waiting for Dior's response, she turned away angrily.

The heels tapped impatiently on the floor, almost as if the person was stomping away.

Even her slender back was filled with displeasure.

"boom--!"

Looking at the door that Selena had slammed shut, still trembling slightly.

Dior finally let out a low laugh.

Great, thank you so much, Ms. Selena.

This finally calmed his agitation somewhat.

However… not going home at night seems like a good option?

Being in Gotham is definitely much easier than facing some real 'devil' at home.

Moreover, it's stormy weather now, and I have every reason to stay in Gotham. After all, the club needs the "King" to be there more than ever in such bad weather...

Frankly, this excuse is flawless.

He was almost convinced.

But when he stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and looked out at Gotham ravaged by the storm,
Neon lights distorted and warped in the rain, and a few pedestrians scurried about the streets, as if the whole world was swaying in the wind and rain.

His heart sank uncontrollably.

The man patted him on the shoulder, said nothing more, looked him in the eyes, and said, "I'm leaving the family to you."

That wasn't a request, that was trust.

It was a trust that was entrusted to him—that land, that house, and those troublesome fellows in the house who also bore the name of Kent.

He, Dio Kent, may now be seeking supreme power, the thrill of dominating the world and having everyone kneel at his feet.
He enjoyed seeing those idiots in Gotham trembling before him.

嗏

A promise is a promise.

Especially promises to family members.

This attraction called 'love' is sometimes more irresistible than threats.

It's a storm outside, and those two little devils at home are probably crying because of the thunder, or maybe they're tearing the house apart again.

Clark, that big oaf, is probably still out there fixing roofs for someone; it's a miracle that Shen Du isn't causing any trouble; and Salafir's mind is entirely on the animals…

Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha's age
Well, they're still young, but they're struggling against those two, especially Dante's demon orb.
If even he chooses to hide in the comforts of Gotham, what will become of the farm?

What will your father see when he comes home?
A complete mess?
No.

Absolutely not.

I, Dio Kent, have long been capable of supporting this family.
"boom--!"

The heavy solid wood door to the office was pushed open rather roughly, bringing in a damp, cold draft and moisture, interrupting Dior's increasingly smug thoughts.

Oswald Kopat
Mr. Penguin was grumbling as he walked in, wiping his top hat, which was almost deformed by the wind and rain, with a handkerchief.

His slightly shrill voice was full of dissatisfaction:

"Damn weather! That darn 'René'! Even Gotham is getting in on the act! Cargo at the docks is delayed, and the club is half empty! Oh~ let me see what this is?"

Leaning closer to the fireplace, letting the flames dry the moisture from his clothes, Cobblestone exclaimed, "Oh, my dear king, your idea of ​​installing a fireplace on the top of an iceberg is absolutely brilliant!"

"I take back what I said before; next time, I'll definitely do something similar at the grassroots level."

"."

Copeport's complaints came to an abrupt end.

He seemed to finally realize that the atmosphere in the office felt a bit tense today.

"Uh"

Startled, Copeport looked up and met the gaze of those eyes behind the desk, which gleamed with a dangerous red light in the shadows.

Dio didn't move, but simply leaned back in his chair, letting the shadows from the fireplace obscure most of his face.

Copeport was so frightened he almost thought only the eyes were alive.
"Mr. Oswald," Dio's voice rang out, calmly asking, "Who gave you permission to come in without being announced?"

Cobbler paused, a look of surprise flashing across his chubby face. Almost instinctively, he replied, "I...we usually...do we always do this, don't we?"

After all, I've long been used to this pattern.

A way of getting along that is based on absolute deterrence and mutual interests, without the need for red tape.

damn it.
Isn't this a privilege he enjoys as a trusted lieutenant of the king?!
However, Dio did not answer; his scarlet eyes merely narrowed slightly.
The coldness inside was almost enough to freeze into frost.

Who upset him?!
Copeport's brain was working at lightning speed.

He immediately realized that the 'King' was in an extremely bad mood today, and that he had walked right into a trap!
Don't fucking use me as a scapegoat!

The survival instincts honed through his struggles in the lower rungs of Gotham began to scream in alarm, and Cobblepot immediately plastered a fawning smile on his face, attempting to salvage the situation:
"Uh...it's my fault, Your Majesty. I was presumptuous."

He bowed slightly, carefully choosing his words, "Actually... it was my heart that told me, sensing Your Majesty's call, that there were important matters to discuss, so..."

"Ahem. I couldn't wait to come in."

Looking at his slick, oily appearance, as if he had just been fished out of Gotham's fish market, Dior almost laughed out of anger.

However, he ignored Copeport's flawed explanation and instead asked a seemingly irrelevant, even absurd, question:

"Which foot did you step through this door with first?"

"Uh……"

Copeland was bewildered by the strange question. He subconsciously looked down at his feet and hesitated before answering, "Left...left foot?"

"Step back, Cobblestone!"

Dior's voice suddenly rose, "I told you last time! You have to use your right foot to enter first!"

Are you questioning my rules, or do you think I have a memory problem?!

"You'll have to pay an extra percentage of your profits this year!"

Copport: "!!!"

The penguin froze, its mind completely blank.

Let's not even talk about how they're already deducting money from my pay at the very beginning of the year.
Right foot? When was such a rule ever established?!

He has absolutely no recollection of this!

This is clearly blatant harassment!

But the next second, his brain, which was accustomed to maneuvering in the cracks of power, immediately sprang into action:
No, this can't just be a challenge.

There must be some deeper meaning behind this!
The right foot... what does the right foot represent?
Is it some kind of test? A test of my loyalty? Or a test of my observation skills?
Does this hint at a shift in the balance of power in Gotham?
Could it be related to the triads that have recently emerged in the dock area? He remembered that those people seemed to be left-handed.
Therefore, using the right foot is to express a posture of opposition and confrontation.
damn it.
My stupid brain, hurry up and use your brain! What does this mean?!

In an instant, fine beads of cold sweat seeped from Copport's forehead and temples.
It was almost as much rain as I had been getting soaked outside.

Dio, meanwhile, simply leaned back in his chair, coldly observing Copport's sweaty, overloaded state, as if his brain was about to explode.

Um.
He felt uninterested.

So boring.

He had originally intended to use this as an excuse to vent his frustration, but looking at the comical yet pitiful appearance of the fat penguin in front of him, his intention to make things difficult faded away.

He snorted coldly, sat back in the wide chair, and sat lazily, as if he wasn't the one who had just released the oppressive aura.

Then he tapped the table, pulling Cobb out of the vortex of his brainstorming.

"Alright, Oswald," Dio's tone returned to its usual indifference. "Stop with your useless speculations. Just tell me, what brings you here?"

Copeport felt like he'd been granted a pardon. He tried to suppress the turmoil in his heart and hurriedly pulled out his already damp handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat that kept seeping from his forehead and neck.

The handkerchief, soaked with rain and sweat, only became stickier the more he wiped, making his chubby face look even more disheveled.
Looking at that stupid face, which only got dirtier the more it was wiped, almost like it was covered in mud.
Dior sighed.

He casually pulled a few soft, clean tissues from the elegant tissue box on the table, his movements not exactly gentle, even showing a hint of disdain, and handed them directly to Copeport.

"Wipe it clean."

The king's voice remained cold, "Take your time, don't make my carpet even dirtier."

Copport was stunned. Looking at the clean white tissue handed to him, and then at Dior's indifferent expression, he felt a strange, flattered, and slightly touched feeling in his heart.
Actually
They even have humanitarian concerns?!
Oh my god
He thought he had returned to Antarctica.
He quickly took the tissue and carefully wiped his face and hands, using the action to calm his wildly beating heart and chaotic thoughts.

Only when he felt a little more presentable did Copport take a deep breath.

He hesitated before speaking, his tone regaining its usual shrewdness and caution:

“It’s like this… Last night, I received a tip from an informant that a group of ninjas of unknown origin had quietly infiltrated Gotham’s docklands and downtown.” He lowered his voice. “They are very secretive and highly skilled, and it seems they are… searching for something.”

"It looks like something called a 'black diamond'."

"Although I don't yet know exactly what this 'black diamond' is, whether it's a piece of jewelry, some kind of code, or... something that contains special power?"

After saying that, he cautiously added, "But these ninjas seem very professional, and... very dangerous."

Should we be aware of this?

PS:

Black Diamond:
Also known as the "Black Diamond of the Eclipse".

The original concept was that it was a small black diamond mined on Apokolips.

It was a tool Darkseid used to suppress opponents under his rule.

[Eclipse]: The former executioner of God, the wrath of the first God, was cast out of Heaven after the fall and replaced by [the Specter].

By a twist of fate, he was sealed inside an item called the "Heart of Darkness".

The "black diamonds" on Apokolips can be understood as fragments of the "Heart of Darkness" scattered elsewhere.

Eclipse is the power that the Dark Heart grants to all those who possess the Black Diamond in the multiverse, channeling their rage.

By the way:
The origin of the new version of the Three Palaces Demon: It also incorporates the [Heart of Darkness] (but not the Heart of Darkness that sealed the Sky Eclipse).
The Heart of Darkness can be understood as a fragment of the Great Darkness, or even as energy orbs that Lucifer casually tossed around for fun.

(End of this chapter)