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

Chapter 119 Slaughtering the Swamp and the Ashes of Withering

A white shell? A person who can't wake up? A swamp?

The three keywords in the task description are so straightforward that it's hard not to find the self-identified label.

In the cabin in the woods, Dio sat under the lamplight, unfolded a map of Gotham Forest, and drew a circle on the Slaughter Swamp with his pen.

"Slaughtering the Swamp? You're investigating that?"

Bruce walked over from the side and glanced at the map briefly.

"What is the connection between this place and the Indian Mountains?"

"It may or may not."

Dior wasn't sure either; his intuition told him there was some connection between the two, but it probably wasn't deep.

He couldn't say for sure; heaven knows what kind of world this is.

However, Dior was certain of one thing.

The Slaughter Swamp is where Solomon-Grandi was born in this world.

Similarly, this place has an urban legend known to everyone in Gotham.

In 1895, Gotham billionaire Cyrus Gold was killed with a shovel by his mistress Rachel's pimp during a sex scandal, and his body was thrown into a swamp.

"My father always told me that there are no spirits or ghosts in this world."

Bruce pointed to the circle on the map, looked at Dio, and said in a low voice, "But you broke that rule, so there might really be monsters in the Slaughter Swamp."

Dio remained silent, calculating the danger of the mission.

After all, that's a slaughter swamp.

When he was a child, he wouldn't sleep, so his mother would move out of this place to scare him.

As he grew up and learned more about the world, Dio realized that his mother had been right about some of the terrifying things she had said.

This place was where the early Gotham people conducted secret "rituals".

They used the swamp as a natural processing plant, disposing of the corpses of losers, sinners, and enemies like livestock.

Even during later gang wars, this place remained an ideal location for destroying evidence.

The endless stream of murders and body disposals has made this land increasingly eerie.

If nothing unexpected happens, those creatures in white shells took advantage of this, throwing living people into the swamp and angering that consciousness.

The embodiment of that universal consciousness has not yet been born and is still engaged in a tug-of-war with other universal consciousnesses, which is why it was entrusted to him.

"I'm going out for a bit, Bruce."

Dior picked up a scarf from the shelf and prepared to leave.

"Hey!"

Bruce grabbed his arm, his expression serious. "If you're going, I'm going too."

"You? Are you sure?"

"I feel like you're going to do something dangerous. I know I can't stop you, but I'll do my best."

Bruce's gaze was unwavering, and he didn't let go: "Because this is my responsibility. You could say I'm responsible for you."

"You're so arrogant, Bruce."

Dio shook off his hand, tied his scarf around his neck, and walked outside.

Bruce gritted his teeth, preparing to sneak up and follow, when the sound of wind breaking through the air rang out.

He instinctively raised his hand and caught a flying glass bottle containing a liquid that looked like water.

Holy water.

"Let's go, Bruce."

Dior decided to show him the world as he saw it.

The other person's expression must be quite interesting.

Not long after.

Two boys walked furtively along a pitch-black forest path.

Adults always say not to walk at night after dark, because you might fall if you can't see.

Of course, neither of the two teenagers were ordinary people.

Night and day make no difference to them.

Dior followed the path on the map, his feet sinking into the soft, humus-covered ground, making almost no sound.

Without turning his head, he reminded him, "Remember to apply this water to your eyes, but don't drink it."

Bruce held the glass bottle; it was cold to the touch, and the liquid inside was clear and transparent.

A bad feeling welled up inside him, as if the water in the bottle was made from some strange and unusual substance.

But he did not hesitate, after all, although Dio had a sharp tongue, he never did anything useless.

Bruce unscrewed the bottle cap, poured a little onto his fingertip, and rubbed it on his eyelids.

A chill seeped in, like a drop of ice water falling deep into the depths of the eyes.

But then a warm current rose up.

In an instant, everything around me changed, yet it seemed like nothing had changed at all.

The trees are still the same trees, and the swamp is still the same swamp, but the atmosphere of the entire forest is completely different.

Something seemed to be slowly wriggling in the grass, in the mist, and on the treetops overhead; something was watching from the shadows.

crunch.

Bruce paused and looked down.

A long, thin, curved white object was half-buried in the mud, its tip turning yellow.

bone?

Before he could think it through, he could faintly hear the roar of a car engine ahead.

"That should be the target."

Dio stepped onto the swampy ground, walking forward with heavy footsteps.

Bruce opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he gritted his teeth and followed.

A white ambulance was parked at the edge of the swamp, its lights off, but its engine was still humming softly.

Two men, one fat and one thin, jumped out of the car, both wearing white coats.

They pulled a trolley out of the carriage, on which lay a burly man, shirtless, with his eyes closed.

A person in a vegetative state.

"Who is this? He looks very strong," the skinny man asked.

"Who knows? I think they used to be a gang, something like Saide."

The fat man took out a cigarette from his pocket, put it in his mouth, but didn't light it, and said nonchalantly, "Every time the hospital needs to save beds, they dump this kind of thing on the two of us."

"Yes, we must have owed them something in our past lives."

The skinny man grinned, revealing uneven, yellow teeth. "Where are we sending them this time? North of the state?"

"Yes, 'Northern Zhou'."

The two men exchanged a glance and laughed simultaneously.

The piercing laughter echoed across the empty swamp, sinister and vicious.

The so-called northern part of the state can certainly not be the real northern part of the state.

"For the gangsters, Gotham Harbor is the North of the State," and for the city hall officials, juvenile detention centers and jails are the North of the State.

For these unofficial staff who specialize in doing dirty work for hospitals, the swamp in front of them is the northern part of the state.

The skinny man patted the vegetative patient on the trolley, his smile fading, and said solemnly, "Rest in peace, buddy, whatever your name was again."

"Yes, may you rest in peace."

The two of them lifted the back of the trolley together and tilted the bed.

The person in a vegetative state slid out and crashed into the cold water of the swamp, splashing up a large patch of foul-smelling water.

The dirty water churned a few times before quickly returning to calm, without even a single bubble rising.

"Alright, he's already been swallowed. Let's go."

The fat man swallowed hard and stuffed the cigarette back into his pocket.

The skinny man stood on the shore, stretched, and suddenly shivered.

"Hiss—it's getting colder and colder here."

"Of course it's cold in the swamp! Let's get going."

"I never said you could leave."

Dior emerged from behind the tree with a match in his hand, his gaze sweeping over the two men in white coats, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"A white shell? It seems some people really do need a shell to protect themselves."

chah~

The burning match illuminated his alluring and handsome face, as well as the gloomy faces of the two people opposite him.

"Here comes Mr. Dior Brando again, always so nosy."

Dior snapped his fingers and straightened his collar.

"Someone entrusted me to let you experience what that guy just went through."

The wind blowing from the swamp was even more foul, and mist drifted over from the water, completely enveloping the four of them.

Dio's expression was threatening. He glanced at the churning swamp out of the corner of his eye, then suddenly laughed: "Could you please jump in yourselves? Or... shall I throw you in?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the swamp churned even more violently, as if something was turning over underwater.

"Looks like someone's getting impatient."