Only a Thirst for Administrative Leave in Their Eyes

If Bruce had been there to see Bane strike that pose, his spine would have run cold.

It was the very stance Bane had used to break his spine back then.

That blow had fractured his spine and paralyzed his lower body, forcing him to spend one of the darkest periods of his life in a wheelchair.

If not for his superhuman willpower, along with the subsequent treatments and rehabilitation that could only be called medical miracles, Alfred would probably have had to change his diapers for the rest of his life.

Now, Bane was preparing to recreate the famous scene that had made his name and give Du Mu the same chiropractic treatment Batman had received.

A savage gleam flared in Bane's eyes. His thick arms locked tightly around Du Mu, then he suddenly raised his right knee and drove it down with all his strength at the middle of Du Mu's spine.

Bang!

Crack—!

A crisp sound of shattering bone exploded through the empty ruins.

Yet Du Mu, whose spine had taken the knee, remained expressionless. He did not even furrow his brow.

Instead, Bane let out a muffled grunt. The arms pinning Du Mu loosened involuntarily, and his whole body toppled uncontrollably to one side.

His right leg had curled up at an awkward angle, blood seeping from his knee. The bones inside had already been completely pulverized.

Du Mu landed steadily. Right in front of Bane, he reached behind his Batsuit and pulled out a silver-gray metal plate.

The surface of the plate gave off a cold sheen. It was so smooth that it did not even have a dent.

Du Mu curled his fingers and flicked the plate three times, producing three clear clangs.

He bared his teeth at Bane in a grin. "This is