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Gotham : Starting from Scratch

Garuda_Translation
Generally speaking, if I have to get reincarnated into a comic book world, I would hope to avoid the grim darkness of the DC Universe entirely. If I absolutely must end up in DC, I would pray to avoid high-risk death traps like Gotham City—famous for its "simple and honest" citizens. But if I’m stuck in Gotham? Please, at least give me a System. This kid just wants to survive. [Self-Made System Loaded. Please work hard to generate wealth. As the saying goes: Money is power. As long as you aren't penniless, you will always have a chance to rise.] Jude Sharp breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his hands together. At least he had a cheat code in this dangerous world. One month later. The Dark Knight swooped down from the night sky, crashing through the skylight. In mere seconds, the restaurant staff were left with broken bones and concussions. Jude stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the restaurant where he’d finally found a job. There went his workplace. There went his boss. And there went the salary he was supposed to collect tomorrow. "Where is my money?! Batman, I have a shift starting at 8 AM!" Translated and edit of Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich 白手起家,蝙蝠侠干碎我的致富梦 Author: 火星咖啡 More at : [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
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Plants vs Dungeon

When dungeon gates opened across the world, it became a gold rush. Hunters chased glory. Guilds chased power. Corporations chased profit. Phong Tran awakened as a Level 1 Farmer. No skills. No passives. A broken EXP bar that never moved. So he sold energy drinks instead. Leg warmers. Electrolytes. Power banks. If everyone else was digging for gold, he’d sell the shovels. Then Josh came. University golden boy. Gym-built. Son of a man who could erase problems with a phone call. “Protection fee.” Phong refused. He woke up in a hospital bed, beaten within an inch of death. His aunt and uncle were gone. No bodies. No investigation. No media coverage. Just silence. Then, as if the universe had a sense of humor, his system finally gave him a quest: Plant and harvest 10 potatoes in the dungeon. That’s it. No penalties. No forced missions. No ticking clock. No promise of justice. Just a choice. Phong takes it. The potatoes mutate. Then other plants followed. Chilies spit burning rounds. Sweet potatoes bulk up into blunt-force bruisers. Garlic turns chemical-warfare illegal. Enoki mushrooms rattle like dungeon-grade machine guns. His crops become his frontline. Phong doesn’t want to conquer the dungeon. He wants to build something inside it. A farm. A hearth. A settlement for people tired of being disposable. He won’t let revenge be the only thing he grows. Revenge lit the spark. But it won’t be the only thing he grows. And if the most powerful man in the city comes looking to finish what his son started... He’ll learn something the dungeon already knows. This farm fights back.
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