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

Raindrops gently fell on the car roof.

Alfred drove intently, but a hint of worry lingered between his brows.

Bruce had never been out of his sight for this long in his life, and this time he even followed a thief.

How could he not worry?

"Ugh."

In the rearview mirror, Dior was fast asleep.

Even his sleeping posture is impeccable, and he sleeps very soundly.

Seeing this, Alfred shook his head and continued driving.

Actually, Dior didn't sleep at all.

Having finally acquired 800 points, Dio was pondering how to use them.

Should I save up 1000 points to enhance my abilities, or use them all to gamble on the odds?

Actually, there's no need to even consider this!

Instead of focusing on quantitative changes brought about by reinforcement, it's better to gamble on a qualitative change.

There are different ways to play with 800!

The advantage lies with me!

and so!

Dior chose to trust his incredible luck and went all in.

8 shots in a row!

The wheel began to spin, and countless dazzling prizes flashed by.

final.....

$1000

$10000

Thomas Wayne's autobiography

[Slight improvement in dynamic vision]

Martha Wayne's pearl necklace

Edward Nigma's Recipes

[A Guide to Faking the Death of Gotham's Villain, the Penguin]

[The Catwalk Techniques of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt]

???

Damn you, Dio Brando, you wicked blonde queen, I'll get you right now!

Dior's face grew increasingly pale until the catwalk technique came to mind.

He raised an eyebrow.

and many more?

It feels like I've won the lottery!

It turns out that this so-called catwalk technique is not only about adjusting one's walking posture, but also about making the person walk without making any noise.

It also contains three types of skills, such as ground prediction, breathing control, and center of gravity control.

These are the three most commonly used techniques for infiltration and assassination!

Plus, his own sexy pistol, a stand-in for assassinations!

Buy one get three free! That's a steal!

There is also dynamic vision.

As soon as Dio had a thought, a cool sensation spread slowly along his optic nerve.

5 seconds later.

Tsk, still so short and weak.

poor and weak!

Dio opened his eyes with disdain, looked in the rearview mirror, and found that his eyes were even more captivating.

But this is far from the limit!

The cars, signs, and raindrops passing by all seemed to slow down.

Dior stretched his neck and silently felt it.

It has dynamic vision that is about twice that of an average person.

"Young Master Dior, you're awake?"

Alfred glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his gaze lingering on those bright eyes for three seconds longer:

"It seems you slept very well."

Dior straightened up; the trees along the roadside outside the window had been replaced by towering Gothic buildings.

"Have we arrived?"

"Yes, we've arrived."

Alfred stopped the car, turned around, and looked at Dio, who had no expression on his face.

"Young Master Dior, you said you know where Bruce is, right?"

Dio nodded; after all, he was the one who provided the escape route, so of course he knew it.

"I looked through the Wayne family history and found that there is a tunnel beneath the manor that leads directly to Gotham."

"Based on the time we've wasted at the estate, they'll arrive in Gotham before us."

He opened the car door, and fine rain fell on his dazzling golden hair.

Under a hazy sky, the Gothic architecture painted the entire city in a cool hue.

"Young Master Dior," Alfred said, handing him a hat.

"Thanks."

Dior glanced at the design, put it on his head, and then pulled the brim down.

Alfred stared at him, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

The shadow of the hat brim perfectly obscured his eyes, dividing his angular face in two.

The blond boy ignored the predatory, beast-like stares from the street and elegantly adjusted his appearance.

The perfect golden ratio was thus presented on the tall and handsome young man.

A smile crept onto Alfred's lips.

Nothing is more fulfilling than seeing the sapling you planted gradually grow into a useful tree.

"What do we want... um?"

Dior had just put his hand down when he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure on the street corner.

Looking at that figure, he slowly narrowed his eyes, staring intently in that direction.

"Ho? I've been looking for you for ages."

The figure looked familiar; it was a teenager, around fifteen years old, standing in front of a lemon tea stall.

The stall still sells things that few people would buy.

Dior recognized him.

It's that boy, Peter Parker, who shares the same name as Spider-Man and ran away, abandoning him and Bruce!

This twisted sense of fate is like being lined up with a hundred alpacas!

"Alfred, do you believe in gravity?"

Dior suddenly turned his head, his voice becoming low.

"gravitational?"

Alfred had not anticipated this problem at all.

"Is it gravity?"

"It's the attraction that brings people together!!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the blond boy next to him rushed towards the figure at the street corner!

"Young Master Dior!"

"Stop right there, you son of a bitch! Parker!!"

Dio shouted, and the street kids around him, like sheep seeing a wolf, ran away in terror.

Peter stiffly looked up and saw the blond boy rushing towards him, then plopped down on the ground.

"You you you you you you!"

Dio was incredibly fast; once he got close, he used a wrestling technique to throw Peter to the ground.

"Ugh!"

Peter's vision spun rapidly, and he crashed to the ground.

Dior flipped himself onto the mount, raised his fist, and grinned triumphantly.

Hello, Peter!

"Wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood!"

"A tonic, a supplement!"

"What?!"

Alfred's eyes widened, and his raised hand froze in mid-air.

Just seconds before, he was secretly admiring the blond boy's elegance and poise.

And now, the boy is riding on a stranger's back without any decorum, punching him repeatedly.

OH NO! !!!

"Master Dior! Let go of that boy!"

Alfred rushed forward and grabbed Dio's raised wrist.

"snort!"

Dio's fist stopped in mid-air.

He glanced at Alfred, snorted, dusted off his clothes, and stood up.

Peter lay on the ground, panting heavily.

As a street urchin, he had miraculously met Falcone and Maroni, but none of them were like Dior.

You can feel that the "evil" in him is so pure, without a trace of confusion or guilt.

When I was beating him up, there was nothing in my eyes—no anger, no hatred, I just wanted to beat him up.

This is unprecedented.

Peter lay on the ground, his chest heaving violently, his mind blank.

"Get up, I promise I won't hit you anymore."

Dio stood up, took the handkerchief Alfred offered, slowly wiped the blood from his knuckles, and then extended his hand to Peter.

That hand was fair and slender, with neatly trimmed nails.

The blond boy's voice had an eerie sweetness, like honey coated with poison.

Is he really a man?

Peter stared at the hand for several seconds before his gaze finally focused.

"Feel sorry."

He grasped that hand and used it to stand up.

"It's okay, I forgive you."

Dior placed his hand on his shoulder, his bright green eyes gazing intently at him, his tone casual yet strangely irresistible.

"Listen, I need you this time, Peter."

"Yes, is that so... Okay."

Peter nodded as if possessed, without even thinking clearly about what he had agreed to.

He was completely stunned by the attack.