American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

Chapter 111 The Fated Silver Bullet

"Wow! Double happiness!"

The second system's task was finally triggered.

Damn system, I thought you were dead!

Dio completely ignored the fact that it was his own fault for doing bad things and blamed everything on the system.

But I'm actually a member of the Justice League?

I?

Dio?

Justice League?

This art style is off, isn't it?

Dio stroked his chin, then shook his head.

"Forget about the Justice League, let's get them out first. We might as well take the points."

At this moment, the surrounding noise grew louder and louder—screams, laughter, and curses all mixed together.

Dior frowned.

"Chaos, disorder, the order you brought is rubbish."

He pulled his hat brim low, concealing the disgust in his eyes, and clenched his fists: "Jerome, if you dare cut off my livelihood, I'll kill you!"

Dio snorted coldly, pressed his body tightly against the tent in front of him, and continued to observe the terrain.

The entire amusement park is circular, with nested layers from the outside in, and key points are guarded by personnel.

Because there is a circus inside the park, each level is separated by wire mesh to prevent large wild animals from entering, making it almost impossible to sneak in.

But it's not like there's absolutely no chance.

Although these people were armed with submachine guns and even automatic rifles, the difference in weaponry could not compensate for the difference in their quality.

If even one external factor intervenes, this mob can quickly descend into chaos.

Dior analyzed the situation calmly.

The core issue is that Bruce's situation is unclear.

If they continue to wait for "external factors," Bruce might not even make it to that point.

As he was pondering, he suddenly heard the crisp sound of horses' hooves behind him.

Tap tap.

Tap tap.

horse?

Are they members of the Joker Gang riding horses?

Dio's back tensed, and his right hand reached for the gun handle at his waist.

Before he could turn around, a warm, damp sensation pressed against the back of his neck—wait, his spider senses didn't detect any danger?

But before he could think it through, he did.

A rough, wet tongue swept over from the side and licked his face thoroughly.

"Eee-ha!!"

Dio shuddered and quickly pressed down on the large head that was leaning in.

That was a horse.

A brown stallion tilted its head, looking at him with its warm, large eyes, as if trying to confirm something.

It was not startled, nor did it neigh; it simply stood quietly, letting his hand rest on its cheek.

Dior paused for a moment.

He had seen many horses; Wayne Manor had several Thoroughbreds kept in its stables.

I just heard that after Bruce broke his leg in a horse-riding accident a few years ago, no one has ridden in since.

Moreover, the horses in the manor were not wild, so Dior naturally had no interest in them.

This one is different.

It is entirely brown, without a single stray hair, and has a thick, long mane.

Its muscles are smooth and firm, its shoulder blades are high and prominent, its limbs are long and slender, and its hooves are large and round.

This is a fine horse born to gallop across the grasslands.

Its eyes are particularly special.

It wasn't the docile nature commonly seen in horses, but rather a quiet, scrutinizing quality.

It looked at Dior as if it were looking at someone it had been waiting for a long time.

"Even though you can't understand me, I still want to ask a question."

Do you believe in gravity?

Dior unconsciously loosened his grip.

"Yes, you... are a good horse."

He paused, and a slight smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Let me think about what name to give you."

A few seconds later, a name that seemed destined for him came to mind.

"Silver Bullet"

Dio patted its forehead and smiled with satisfaction: "How about you call yourself Silver Bullet, or Silver Bullet?"

Silver Bullet's ears twitched, and it lowered its head, rubbing its nose against his palm.

It is so human-like and has a strong compatibility with ripples.

A perfect steed.

It's time to cultivate some hobbies, but only after rescuing Bruce.

Dio didn't linger. He patted its head briefly and said in a low voice, "Wait for me here. I'll come pick you up when I'm done."

As Dio pondered, he unconsciously stroked the silver bullet's neck.

Since there are no external factors, let's make it ourselves.

He needs to create chaos and confusion so he can take advantage of the situation.

"How can we create chaos at the scene?"

As Dio thought this, he touched his neck even faster.

Behind me, the sand surged silently at my feet.

At first, it was just a few tiny grains of sand jumping around, but later it turned into a ripple.

The sand is climbing, gathering, and solidifying upwards along some unseen path.

A sand sculpture, with hands clasped in a gesture of holding something up, in human form but without a face, slowly emerged.

At that moment, the language barrier was no longer an issue.

The silver bullet suddenly snorted, lowered its head, and used its teeth to grab the corner of the tent and pull it to the side.

The tent flap was partially lifted.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

Dior peered inside through the lifted curtain.

Inside the tent were a dozen or so glass bottles, their mouths plugged with oil-soaked strips of cloth.

Molotov cocktail.

It's obvious that the Jokers made these Molotov cocktails on the spot for their escape, and now they've all benefited him.

Dior's eyes lit up.

He patted Silver Bullet's neck, his gaze sweeping over the Molotov cocktails before settling on the flashing neon lights deep within the amusement park.

"Jerome, didn't you want a stage?"

"I'll light a fire for you."

Dio took Diego's riding clothes from the panel, changed into them, and then mounted the horse.

The silver bullet remained completely still.

The moment Dio's legs gripped the horse's belly, a strange tacit understanding arose between man and horse.

Like two puzzle pieces reunited after a long separation, they fit together perfectly.

"The ripples tell me that we're surprisingly compatible."

Dior adjusted the brim of his hat, the gold-stamped "DIO" on the blue-green hat gleaming.

He was arrogant and confident, as if the whole world wanted to know his name.

"Vajji, Vajji! Where have you been?! Fuck!!"

Intermittent curses could be heard coming from outside the tent.

A man with a burly face, wearing a Joker gang jacket, stumbled out from the other side of the tent.

He saw his own "Vaj" and also the person on horseback.

He was a blond young man, and his handsome and confident appearance didn't seem out of place at all.

The name on the hat was extremely arrogant.

The trainer's expression changed from anger to horror, and then to disbelief.

This horse was a mixed-breed wild horse that he bought at the underground horse market in the East District after spending six months of his savings.

It stands over 1.7 meters tall, has amazing explosive power, and top-notch endurance, making even the most experienced horse trainers in the penguin community drool with envy.

But this beast had a violent temper; it would bite anyone it saw and throw people off the saddle. It went through four trainers in three months.

In his attempt to tame it, he had three ribs broken and two cell phones crushed.

He feeds it the best oats, brushes its fur with warm water, and pours a bowl of freshly squeezed carrot juice—a juice he himself wouldn't even drink—for this precious creature every single day without fail.

And now, this wild horse, which he had never ridden before, was carrying a blond boy obediently.

Who is this kid?

Fake!

At that moment, the blond boy was also looking at him, his eyes revealing a hint of disdain.

"Damn it."

"You fucking get down here!"

The trainer reached for the pistol at his waist.

But someone was one step ahead of him.

"You asked for it."

Dior drew his Glock and pulled the trigger.

boom.

A dark red flower bloomed on the man's brow.

"Let's go! Silver Bullet!"

The silver bullet let out an excited hiss, took a step, and transformed into a brown gust of wind, rushing outwards.

Dior lit a Molotov cocktail and threw it toward the fireworks warehouse next to the amusement park entrance.

Flames instantly engulfed the tent, and the Joker gang members screamed and fled in all directions.

"Ah!! Fire!!"

Dio, riding his horse, surveyed the surrounding flames with satisfaction: "So weak, so very weak, Jerome!"

"Wryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!

Everyone in Gotham has gone mad today.