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

Chapter 127 Finally, in court, with a substitute

Dior was forced into a chair, and everything went black before his eyes.

Claw reached over and removed the black hood from his head, then stepped aside.

Is this the courtroom?

Dio opened his eyes, turned his neck to face the light, and his gaze swept across the secret room that had been converted into a courtroom.

In the very center is a huge semi-circular long table.

The tabletop is made of dark walnut wood, and the chairs are made of genuine leather.

There are twelve high-backed chairs arranged on each side of the long table in front of me.

The left side of the room is a whole wall of bookshelves, filled with legal classics and Gotham history books.

Old Qian Feng, huh.

Dior showed no surprise whatsoever.

He'd seen this kind of arrangement many times before.

"Dio".

The voice came from the judge's bench.

Dior turned to look at the chairman at the long table.

An Anren wearing an owl mask sat there, exuding elegance and extraordinary bearing.

However, his golden hair was streaked with silver, and the wrinkles on his skin were clearly visible.

This is an age that makeup can no longer hide.

She wore red nail polish and eyeshadow, dressed fashionably, but couldn't hide the marks of time.

Want to make up for lost time?

Dior memorized a lot of information with just a glance.

Catherine tapped the table lightly and said in a deep voice, "I think we should have a serious talk."

"Oh? So you are...."

Dior glanced at the old woman, his expression subtle.

"Yes, you can call me Catherine."

Catherine reached out and removed the owl mask, revealing a well-maintained face.

"And I am your contact person."

Dior glanced at the lines around her mouth.

Those are the traces left by years of issuing orders.

"Are you still evaluating me in your mind? You're just like your grandfather."

Dio didn't reply. Instead, he glanced at the Claw leader behind him and sneered, "You know me so well, yet you dare to bring a piece of trash into a room with me?"

The Claw leader remained expressionless, but a hint of displeasure flashed in his eyes.

Sometimes, the truth is the hardest to hear.

Catherine glanced indifferently at Claws, then looked at Dio, her tone certain: "I don't think you would do that."

"Based on our assessment of you, you only do things that benefit yourself."

"You have a long-term vision, and I believe you wouldn't do something so foolish."

Dior adjusted his posture and smiled elegantly.

"You're right, we're in cahoots."

Sometimes, having flexible bottom lines is one of the survival skills of Gothamites.

"So, what do you want to do by bringing me here in front of Fox?"

"You guys know there's a certain unspoken understanding between Bruce and me, right?"

"You guys call me here at a time like this..."

After saying this, Dio paused for a moment, then looked at the smiling Catherine.

A terrible suspicion began to surface in my mind.

They have alternatives.

"You are very clever, Dior."

Catherine tapped the table lightly, stood up, her smile devoid of warmth, and said, "Your mission at the Wayne family is coming to an end."

"At this stage, Bruce's presence is no longer necessary; you should understand what I mean."

Dior lowered his head slightly, hiding his gaze in the shadows.

"Say yes. You and your grandfather are both outstanding people."

Catherine's finger paused on the photo frame for a moment before withdrawing it. "In my heart, the dress your grandfather made is the best, even though it has many flaws."

"the same as you."

Are they starting to play the emotional card?

Hmph, what a weak tactic.

Dior grew increasingly disdainful.

After a moment's hesitation, he calmly began to ask, "Did you have someone take the workbook?"

"Of course. This is just a precaution; I want to make sure you don't reveal the secret so soon."

Catherine readily admitted it.

Her name was indeed on that old workbook, and more than once.

To prevent some little boy from discovering a shortcut, she would naturally take the answer away.

Dior sneered inwardly.

A young lady frequently visits a handsome tailor; he could guess the course of the story with his toes.

It's nothing more than a clichéd drama about money and social status.

so boring.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. We've called you here to have you complete your final task."

Catherine returned to the chairperson's seat and snapped her fingers.

The leader of the Claws behind him nodded slightly and turned to walk towards the back of the courtroom.

Soon, two figures, one tall and one short, emerged from the shadows and stood side by side in front of the long table.

"Let's meet your new companion."

Dio turned his head and his pupils suddenly contracted.

"you!"

The person in front of me is a teenager.

Black hair, blue eyes, and well-defined features.

He was wearing the same dark school uniform that Bruce often wore, and even his posture was exactly the same.

Their expressions were equally indifferent, equally aloof.

Most importantly, the person in front of him looks exactly like Bruce.

A clone?

Dior's expression gradually turned sinister.

It turned out to be a clone.

That damn lunatic!

"Hello, Dior."

This clone of Bruce's voice is exactly the same as the original.

Not only that, their expressions and eye movements when they spoke were exactly the same.

If it weren't for the lack of scrutiny in his gaze and the different ripple reactions, Dio would have thought he was Bruce.

"That's interesting."

Dior ignored the counterfeit and looked at Catherine. "So, the real Bruce died in Indian Hills?"

"That's right, Bruce of the Wayne family will die in Indian Hills, and Bruce of the Owls will take over everything from the original owner."

Catherine's words contained a hidden threat.

That's pretty obvious.

Not just Bruce, anyone can be replaced.

The cost of creating clones is not high; a few months is enough, and those who disobey will be replaced.

"Once you've done all this, your mission is complete."

"We will give you a very generous reward, you will inherit the Monroe family fortune, and we will reserve a seat for you in court."

So, you were having an affair with my grandfather, weren't you?

Dior silently noted this down in his mind, calculating:

The terms sounded good, but they were all empty promises; whether or not to accept them depended entirely on the other party's word.

Even if the woman in front of him had a past with his grandfather, she could sit in the position of Supreme Court Justice, so she would definitely not be bound by love.

Dior turned his head again to examine the clone in front of him.

He studied Thomas's medical notes, but so far he has only mastered about five percent of the knowledge.

The fake artifact in front of us uses some kind of accelerated cultivation technology, which has a fatal flaw and will not have a long lifespan.

If he helps this hawk take control of the Wayne family, he himself will be the next one to be purged.

Therefore, Bruce cannot be eliminated yet.

So who should be eliminated?

Dior chuckled coldly, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

He felt he needed time, while this guy needed an... accident.

Fake Bruce suddenly shivered and turned his head sharply, only to meet a pair of malicious eyes.

The malice sent chills down his spine. Did the real Bruce usually hang out with monsters like this?

How did he survive?

Fake Bruce broke out in a cold sweat and his breathing became rapid.

"I need your answer immediately, Dior."

Catherine crossed her legs, her patience dwindling rapidly.

I promise you.

Dior nodded decisively, a smile playing on his lips. "No one would refuse such generous terms."

"Yes, you are a remarkable young man, Dior."

Catherine waved her hand. "Send them both away from here."

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