Chapter 1. Having a Buddy Who is Too Fast May Not Be a Good Thing
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In Central City, at an intersection far from the city center, a young man dressed in a sharp outfit crouched by the roadside, his head swaying from side to side.
Don't get him wrong, he wasn't on drugs; he was just observing the road, looking for anyone who might have mobility issues and need help. His actions seemed quite odd to passersby. Some people even deliberately kept their distance from him.
But Dean Hayes didn't care about the curious stares. If anyone found him an eyesore and asked him to move, he'd gladly comply. Of course, he preferred if they were blunt about it. If someone kicked him without saying anything, he'd finally have a reason to fight back.
"I've been here for two hours and not a single elderly person has crossed the road. There are supposed to be plenty of nursing homes nearby, right?" he muttered to himself.
The young man's name was Dean Hayes, and he was a reincarnator. His father, a Chinese immigrant, owned a restaurant in Chinatown. The business was doing well, so Dean's childhood had been relatively prosperous. However, Dean was not content with this life.
The city he lived in was called Central City, and there was a superhero named The Flash. Everything pointed to the fact that he had somehow ended up in the DC Universe, and that meant trouble. The DC Universe was notoriously dangerous. Surviving in this dark world as an ordinary person? That could be considered a luxury.
Thinking about The Flash made Dean's blood boil. "Damn it, The Flash! If it weren't for him, I would have been racking up points months ago!"
Dean had the best of intentions, but compared to the Justice League's dedicated Flash, he was far too weak, slow, and ineffective.
From large-scale crises like bank robberies and fire scenes to small things like rescuing a kitten or helping an old lady cross the street, everywhere Dean went, he could always spot that red streak of The Flash zipping past him, solving everything before he could even take a step.
As the sun rose higher, the temperature began to exceed Dean's tolerance. After waiting for three hours, he couldn't stand it any longer. He was about to get up and leave when, to his surprise, he spotted an elderly man cautiously making his way across the road.
Dean's mood lifted instantly, but as he blinked, barely even closing his eyelids, a red blur sped past. The next moment, the elderly man was standing right beside him.
The old man calmly adjusted his reading glasses and didn't seem at all surprised by the sudden displacement. Clearly, this wasn't the first time he'd experienced something like this. Using his crutch, he poked Dean, who was muttering curses under his breath.
"Boy, would you mind stepping aside? You're blocking my way."
The old man spoke politely, so Dean had no choice but to get up and walk toward his car.
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"Dean," she called out.
At the bustling Chinese restaurant, a waitress named Susie brought a steaming cup of chicken soup to the boss's son before leaving with a slight sway in her hips.
Barry Allen rushed through the door, found Dean, and took a seat across from him. He looked around at the crowded restaurant and sighed. "Your dishes must be really authentic. Every time we come here, there's always a full house. Thankfully, Susie leaves us a table."
Dean sighed as he picked up a piece of chicken rib. "Authentic doesn't necessarily mean tasty, and tasty doesn't always mean authentic. "
Barry, clueless, grabbed a fortune cookie from the table, cracked it open, and read the note inside. Dean barely glanced at it before crumpling it up and tossing it aside.
"Let's move toward a better tomorrow together? Hah, this so-called 'food for thought' is far less genuine than just saying 'thank you for your patronage.' At least that would honestly tell you that you've been had."
Much like American-style Chinese food, Dean's family restaurant had modified traditional recipes to cater to local tastes. The survival of the fittest meant that authentic establishments had long been shut down, while those that adapted had survived. Dean couldn't help but lament how everything had diverged from what his ancestors had intended.
"You don't get it, do you?" Dean continued. "What's 'authentic' here would be laughed out of China."
Barry, however, simply nodded, though he had no idea what Dean was talking about. His role in life was straightforward: eat, drink, and keep his job as a forensic evaluator. However, Barry also had a secret identity—he was The Flash, a superhero known to all of Central City.
The Speed Force had gifted Barry with speed beyond ordinary human capabilities, but using it drained his energy. To compensate, he had to eat a lot more food. While his appraiser's salary was decent, it wasn't exactly overflowing with cash. That's where Dean came in, frequently treating him to meals, which helped bring them closer.
After all, if you want to win a man's heart, the best way is through his stomach.
Dean knew that keeping a strong bond with Barry was crucial. In the dangerous world of DC, having The Flash as a friend could be a lifesaver. But at this moment, Dean was thinking less about his friendship with Barry and more about the system he had recently discovered.
At the age of eighteen, Dean's long-awaited golden finger, a mysterious point system, had finally activated. This system allowed him to accumulate points through good deeds, and those points could be spent on items and abilities that could help him become stronger. Dean's ultimate goal was to become the greatest philanthropist in the DC Universe.
However, as Barry's close friend, Dean was often overshadowed by The Flash. Whenever there was a crisis, Barry always got there first, leaving Dean to help clean up the aftermath rather than directly engage with the problem.
Sitting at the table, Barry dug into his meal while Dean opened the system menu and checked his character data.
[Name: Dean Hayes]
[Title: None]
[Points: 98]
[Abilities: None]
The system was simple. Points could be spent to draw items from a prize pool, with each draw costing 100 points. Dean had enough points for a single draw, and he was eager to see what he might get.
His goal was to grow stronger, but the Flash's constant presence often interfered with his ability to gain points. It was hard to do good deeds when his speedster friend always beat him to the punch.
As Barry continued to feast, Dean felt a rising sense of impatience. His points had finally reached 99, and now he couldn't wait any longer.
"Barry, I've got to head out. I'm off to feed some stray cats. You enjoy the rest of the meal," Dean said, standing up.
Barry barely registered the words, still enjoying his food. Dean left the table and made his way to the kitchen, where he was about to hand over leftover food to the stray animals outside. It was better than feeding the homeless, after all, and the stray animals were always grateful for the food.
As Dean stepped outside and set the bowls down, a group of cats swarmed him, eagerly lapping up the food. It was chaos for a few moments, with the cats fighting for scraps and even tearing at his jeans. "Hey, stop it, Tom! Those are my new jeans!"
After taking care of the animals, Dean returned inside, slightly disheveled but satisfied. As he checked his system, he saw that he had earned a small number of points for his efforts.
[Feed stray animals and earn points.]
Despite the minor reward, Dean couldn't help but feel a bit deflated. But he wasn't done yet. His first-ever lottery draw was about to happen.
"Alright, Jade Emperor, Tathagata Buddha, I've been praying for this. Please, give me something useful! I'm not greedy—anything will do, just not a useless trinket!"
He hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. This moment had taken so long to prepare for, and now it was time to reap the rewards.
Dean confirmed the extraction, and instantly, his points were reduced to zero. His consciousness shifted into a white space, where a 3x3-meter prize pool appeared before him.
"What is this? A literal pool?" Dean thought, confused. A fishing rod appeared in his hand, and without further hesitation, he cast the line into the water.
Seconds later, he felt a sharp pull. He lifted the rod, and an object flew from the water and landed before him.
It was a wooden sword.
[Name: Wooden sword dipped in curry]
[Type: Weapon]
[Quality: ★☆](1.5 stars)
[Attack Power: Weak]
[Attribute: None]
[Special Effects: Samurai Soul]
[Description: A discarded wooden sword, said to have been taken from a 10,000-year-old diamond tree at the border. It is very hard and bears three blurred words on the handle. Not a limited edition.]
[PS: It is advised that police officers use this sword sparingly.]
The corner of Dean's mouth twitched: "What a rip-off, isn't this Gintoki's Toyako Bokuto? Why is it covered in curry. Why didn't you say it was ordered from a TV shopping advertisement? Even the handle is the only thing that distinguishes it from other wooden knives."
After a roar in the consciousness space, Dean returned to reality, and the wooden knife was transferred to the warehouse by default. When opening the warehouse menu, you can see a "silver" icon.
As soon as the wooden sword left his hand, Dean found that he was no longer so excited: "So the soul of a warrior is just on effect..."
Dean's first lottery was gone. Although he had taken out an item of the "Protagonist's Weapon" level and his character had undoubtedly exploded, it was just like the chicken ribs he had picked out. It was tasteless and a pity to throw away. .
This is DC, the birthplace of gun-drawing, and the martial arts per capita is abundant. In the face of powerful firearms, what use can a wooden sword do? Gintoki can cut from Kabukicho to Yoshiwara, and then to the Night Rabbit, It's because of his superb martial arts skills that it has little to do with weapons.
Returning to the dining table, he found Barry had finished eating and was sitting contentedly.
"You really can put it away, Barry. Sometimes I wonder if you're from the Night Rabbit Clan."
Barry scratched his head, confused. "What's the Night Rabbit Clan? I've never heard of it."
Dean grinned as he continued to eat. "Oh, you know. An alien species. They look just like humans but have an insatiable appetite and an affinity for kombu. Their appetite is as boundless as their boss's morality."
Barry didn't understand but smiled along. He and Dean had been friends for two and a half years now, and he knew better than to engage in these bizarre conversations.
"So, Dean, your internship ends in two days, right? Planning to celebrate when you become a full-time officer?"
Dean nodded, his face serious. "Actually, I need to talk to you about something."
He pulled out a transfer notice and handed it to Barry, who quickly scanned it.
"Wait, what? You're being transferred to Gotham?" Barry said, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Yep, I applied for it myself," Dean replied calmly.
"Are you insane?" Barry snapped, shaking his head. "Gotham is one of the most dangerous cities in the country! They're corrupt, the police are practically all in bed with the gangs, and if you're not careful, they'll eat you alive!"
Dean shrugged. "I need the challenge. Central City is safe, but I'm stuck. Gotham's dangerous, but there's more room for growth. I'm ready for it."
Barry stared at him, his concern evident. "You'll be eaten alive. But I can't change your mind, can I?"
Dean shook his head. "Nope, it's done. Just promise me you'll keep an eye on things from afar."
Barry looked resigned but offered a final piece of advice. "Good luck, then. You're going to need it."
Dean clapped him on the back. "Thanks. You're the best."
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Two days later, Dean stood on the deck of a ship, staring at the distant, dim city lights of Gotham.
"Gotham, here I come."