96-98

Chapter 96: First Rain, Early Spring Woods Flourish 

The crowd around them seemed to be intentionally blocking Albert and Rosen. The two struggled mightily but kept getting pushed back by the surge of people. 

They were stuck in the middle of the group, unable to move forward or backward. The solemn and silent atmosphere was almost like a mountain, pressing down on them, making it hard to breathe. So, they could only push desperately forward, hoping to reach the front. 

After who knows how long, Albert suddenly felt his vision clear. Looking up, he'd actually managed to squeeze to the very front of the crowd. 

Standing on his left was the Roman, Gotham's crime lord, untouchable, a high-and-mighty figure of the underworld, his hat respectfully removed. 

Standing on his right was the silent and stern Maroni, Gotham's second-biggest gang boss, the current head of the Maroni family, a Gotham underworld legend second only to the Roman. 

Directly in front was the tree planter, wielding a shovel and filling the tree pit with soil, and a group of kids. 

Albert carefully swallowed. This was the first time in his life he'd seen a scene like this, but he was here now and wasn't about to back down. So, he whispered to Rosen, "Rosen, stick close to me." 

"Do we have to—" 

"Shut up." 

Albert practically dragged Rosen forward by force. At this moment, everyone's eyes turned towards them. Only now did they understand what it felt like to have gazes "almost condense into substance." 

Yet everyone merely watched, including the Godfather, including Maroni. No one tried to stop the reporter's actions; they simply watched him walk forward step by step. 

Who was that person in the black cloak? What kind of fertilizer did he use? Why did those small trees sprout so quickly? Was that owl trained by him? 

Questions kept bursting in Albert's mind, continuously processing themselves into more sensational, conflict-stirring news questions. He pulled Rosen along bit by bit, almost reaching the figure. 

"The one in my dreams is a hero like Don Quixote." 

The sentence abruptly entered his ears, and Albert's body instantly stiffened. 

"He will carry a microphone, like a sword that cuts through darkness; face the camera, like stepping into a sacred and solemn dueling ground; wear a suit, like an unbreakable armor." 

"He will use news to expose injustice and darkness, to denounce the disappearance of light. If he dies while battling the evil giants, bury me with him – Mrs. Albert, died by suicide." 

"I can die for this path, but I cannot let her suffer for me – formerly reporter Albert, died by coercion." 

As the tree planter's voice spoke, memories long buried in a corner surged like a tide. These were the past events Albert had desperately avoided, unwilling to recall for years. This was the most unbearable memory in his heart. 

It was his dead ideals and his dead lover. It was the reason he had become what he was today. 

Knight Albert, before falling into the clutches of the giants, was an upright swordsman. 

Suddenly, a wind howled through the woods, blowing across Albert's stunned face, like the hands that had wiped away his tears countless times in memory. The sounds around him also suddenly grew dense – birds and deer, squirrels and sparrows, and more. 

Animals surged out from the woods one by one. Birds spread their wings and circled like a whirlwind, instantly almost overwhelming Albert and Rosen. A deer gently turned its body, nudging their legs with its soft back, forcing them to retreat. In just a moment, the two were standing back in the crowd. 

Once they were standing firm, the animals vanished back into the woods like the wind, leaving no trace. Disappearing with them was the tree planter carrying the shovel. But at this moment, Albert had no mood for further interviews. He silently pressed down on Rosen's camera, looked at the tree with its budding branches, and left the scene half an hour later. 

Perhaps, from now on, there would be one more mourner at the edge of the woods in the cemetery. 

... 

"Cody, a lot of people have been asking about you lately." 

Jason, carrying a shovel and walking down the road with Cody, said to him, "They all know we're the street kids' gang living in the city, but none of them know who you are." 

"So they want to find out from you?" Cody strode forward, carrying the shovel. His voice, modified by the voice changer under his robe, was a mature, steady middle-aged man's voice. "So, did any of you sell me out?" 

"What nonsense are you talking about?" 

"Then it's fine, isn't it?" 

"But they might suspect it's you. You're the closest one to us." 

"Suspicion without evidence doesn't get you answers," he replied. "They probably suspected me from the second or third day after we went to plant trees, but as long as I play dumb and don't admit it, who's going to force me to?" 

"But why won't you show your face?" 

"I don't want to be treated like some kind of mystic." 

"Hmm... that scene just now did feel pretty Saint Patrick-like." 

"Did it?" 

"Yeah, I heard Commissioner Gordon talk about him before. He's a follower of the Lord, a messenger of green, with animals willingly following him, and little sprites talking to him." 

"Your memory's pretty good, huh? You remember everything Commissioner Gordon tells you." 

"I'm smart!" 

Cody looked at Jason, who unconsciously puffed out his chest and raised his head, and couldn't help but laugh. 

"Since you're so smart, how about I teach you something? You know what day it is seven days from now?" 

"Seven days from now..." Jason thought for a long time, scratching his head. "What day is it?" 

"It's Tomb Festival." 

"What's Tomb Festival?" 

"It's a holiday from where I'm from. Sacrifices, ancestral worship, sweeping graves. The living remember the dead, borrow a little courage and optimism from them, and then keep living." 

"Oh... so it's kind of like now?" 

"Maybe a bit more accepting than now – I'll teach you a poem." 

"You know poems too? I can learn poems?" 

Cody rolled his eyes at Jason. 

"We just don't talk much usually, doesn't mean we're completely uncultured." 

Rain began to fall again at this moment, drizzling down on the black raincoats, the brown soil, and the green leaves at the edge of the woods. 

"You've all been learning with me for a while now. Now, read after me: " - During the Tomb Festival, the rain falls in torrents. 

And so, a group of slightly clumsy children's voices followed along. 

• Travelers on the road are heartbroken. 

• I ask where a tavern can be found 

• A cowboy points distantly to Apricot Flower Village 

"Very good, let's do it again..." 

... 

The sound of rain and reciting poetry dripped from the leaves together, gradually melting into the soil, and disappearing from sight. 

It was a few days past the Spring Equinox now, the spring waters were just beginning, and the spring woods were just beginning to flourish. 

Chapter 97: The Green Dream 

Green. 

The entirety of Gotham had turned green. 

That was Gordon's first thought after opening his front door. 

The streets were bustling with people, wearing brightly colored green scarves, sporting green headpieces shaped like shamrocks, and green hats (Irish culture is a bit different from ours, so think of this like putting on new clothes for New Year). Even their faces were painted with green greasepaint. 

Everywhere Gordon looked was packed wall-to-wall with a sea of green people. They were singing and dancing, the cheerful sounds of violins, drums, and trumpets practically echoing throughout the entire block. 

"This is really something... If it weren't for the gang wars and the Holiday Killer, maybe Gotham's St. Patrick's Day should be like this." 

Gordon thought this, a smile involuntarily appearing on his face. The green crowd was so enthusiastic, the joyful music so loud, and the festive atmosphere so infectious; even he, who was usually perpetually frowning, found himself cheering up along with them. 

Wait a minute, the Holiday Killer... 

At this thought, Gordon snapped back to reality as if waking from a dream. St. Patrick's Day had clearly passed, so what exactly was this scene... 

"Gordon, why is it so noisy outside...? What is going on?!" 

His wife, Barbara, holding their child, walked to the door. Seeing the green crowd on the street, she couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, "I thought St. Patrick's Day was over." 

"That's what I thought too—" 

"What are you waiting for? The festival is here!" 

A little green leprechaun, holding a wooden wand, staggered out of the crowd. With a gentle flick of his wand, he transformed Gordon and Barbara's clothes into green suits and bowler hats. 

A cane also appeared in Gordon's hand. 

"To be honest, I'm slightly allergic to this green outfit and this bowler hat..." Commissioner Gordon unconsciously grumbled, "And this cane, it reminds me of someone who's a real pain in the neck." 

The leprechaun seemed quite human. With another wave of his wand, Gordon's clothes changed into a green Western leather jacket, jeans, a cowboy hat, and cowboy boots. 

He also had a green water gun shaped like a revolver in his hand. 

"Oh, you look cool." 

"Thanks, Barbara, but I'm still not entirely sure what happened overnight—" 

"Hey, Commissioner Gordon!" 

"Harvey? What happened to you?" 

Harvey Dent, wearing a green trench coat and a pointed hat, appeared before them with Gilda, who was wearing a long green dress. Even his face was involuntarily influenced by the atmosphere, looking somewhat relaxed. "I don't know either, but it doesn't hurt when I hit myself, so maybe this is just a dream." 

"A dream..." 

"Why think so much?" 

Barbara took Gordon's hand. "Since it's a dream, why not enjoy this St. Patrick's Day before you wake up?" 

Little Dent, whose hair had been dyed green and who was still in his infant's cloth/swaddling, floated behind Barbara and nodded in agreement. 

"There's definitely something wrong with this world." 

Commissioner Gordon stared, dumbfounded, at the floating Little Dent, before being pulled into the throng. 

There were so many people in the parade, stretching from one end of the block to the other. In fact, the entire city of Gotham was filled with the jubilant crowd. 

Looking down from the Brown Bridge and the Triple Arch Bridge, even the water surrounding Gotham had turned green. 

The river flowing through the city was bubbling, turning into a river of green beer. The buildings' materials had transformed into green chocolate and candy; you could break off a piece and taste it anytime. The clouds in the sky were green cakes that occasionally fell down and hit the crowd, but people felt no pain and weren't injured. The fountains in the square were spouting green ice cream, currently surrounded by a group of eager children waiting for the little leprechaun to hand out their share. 

Of course, some people weren't swept up in the festive atmosphere. Carmine Falcone woke up today to find his gold watch had turned into a green children's watch, and now even his face was green. 

"Knock, knock, knock" 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the Godfather's bedroom door. This struck him as quite odd. Within three minutes of waking up, he had determined he was in a dream. None of his men were in the apartment; he had no idea where they'd gone. So who could be knocking at this hour? 

"Come in." 

"Father, Happy Festival." 

A familiar voice sounded from behind him. Falcone turned his head in disbelief. The figure at the door was truly his youngest son, Alberto, whom he had longed for day and night and who had long been resting in the cemetery. 

"Alberto, my Alberto... How are you here—" 

"Father, what are you talking about?" 

Alberto's face showed a puzzled expression. "It's St. Patrick's Day today. You were the one who told me to come over and celebrate with you—but why is there no one at all in your apartment? This is very dangerous." 

Falcone's mouth was half-open, his lips trembling slightly. He didn't ask questions or give an answer, he just said, "Alberto, today is St. Patrick's Day." 

"Come with me to the street to celebrate." 

Alberto was somewhat confused but still nodded. His appearance was exactly like the obedient child from Falcone's memories of decades past. A simple answer, yet it made Falcone's eyes sting slightly. 

He said, "Okay, Father." 

... 

"Heidi, Happy Festival." 

"Richard?" 

The woman wandering alone on the street looked at her deceased lover appearing before her again. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, and then her eyes filled with tears. 

"Heidi, you should be happy on the festival." 

... 

"Fuck! What kind of garbage dream is this?!" 

Carla Viti muttered curses in the basement while practicing shooting. She didn't know why she was having this damned dream, but she was extremely unhappy that her pistol had turned into a squirt gun that only shot green cream. 

"Mom, why aren't you going out onto the street?" 

When Johnny Viti appeared before her, Carla Viti almost jumped. She hugged her son and burst into tears. 

... 

Such scenes unfolded throughout Gotham. The five members of the Irish Mob were holding a concert in the square in the center of Gotham. The jubilant crowd surrounded and cheered for them, but perhaps few people knew their dream from when they left their homes – to form their own band and become world-famous superstars. 

Carlo passed Quick's house and found him making a cake for his grandmother in the bright little house. 

Brown was eating at home with his wife and daughter. The table was filled with delicious dishes, definitely enough to keep everyone full. 

Smith was walking in the park with her mother. Her complexion looked so good, the weakness and pale face left by years of selling blood gone. 

Duke sat in his office, full of energy. Even though it was a holiday, he was still working on documents. 

Wilson was eating pizza and singing; Martin was carrying luggage, buying a ticket to Star City at the station; Thomas was having a water gun fight with his parents; Albert and his wife were embracing, sobbing uncontrollably... 

In the green dream, Gotham once again had a green St. Patrick's Day. 

Chapter 98: April 

That night, only three souls weren't touched by dreams. 

Batman circled high above Gotham, his gaze fixed on a city truly, perhaps for the first time, lost in slumber. On this particular night, there was no crime, no battles waged. With nothing to do, he still circled, hour after hour, meticulously observing every single corner of the city, until the first hint of dawn broke, when he vanished into the morning light. 

And an old friend, as always, silently kept vigil in the Batcave, keeping him company through the quiet hours. 

As for the third person, that was Cody. 

He wore no black hooded robe, carried no shovel or saplings. He walked alone to the homes of the Gordons, the Harveys, the Clintons, and even to the shelter he and the animals built for Grundy in the woods, just to be sure they were all sleeping peacefully. 

Finally, he came to the edge of the woods near the suburban cemetery, watching the small trees glow faintly in the moonlight, standing there in silent stillness. 

He had wanted to do this for a long time. When he wore the robe, he was the Tree Planter, but in truth, he wanted to stand among the people, to join this quiet mourning ritual, to feel a touch of sadness for the unfortunate souls resting in the graveyard. 

Perhaps, he thought, lifting his gaze towards the moonlight piercing through the clouds, where he couldn't make out the shadow of Batman, maybe I'm just not cut out to be a saint. 

"Wonder if that Bat had a good dream tonight." 

... 

The next day, everyone in Gotham woke up feeling a strange mix of wistfulness and surprise. They realized the dreams they'd had the previous night seemed to be the very same one. 

Gordon and Harvey both recalled what they'd encountered in their dreams. Members of the Falcone family remembered not going to work, but going home to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with their families. And the families of the departed clearly remembered the loved ones who had returned to them in their sleep. 

After that day, the citizens visited the edge of the woods near the cemetery as usual to mourn, but found that the Tree Planter never appeared again. He was like a hallucination, a shadow, someone who didn't exist. Only the little trees left behind stood as silent witnesses, proof that this experience wasn't just a dream. 

Everyone believed St. Patrick had performed a miracle. But no one dared press the children for details. In fact, ever since that dreamlike St. Patrick's Day, the status of these kids in Gotham had become... rather extraordinary. Falcone and Maroni both began using their territories across the city to build them real, long-term shelters – their only condition being the hope that these children would continue this ritual indefinitely. 

After all, there would always be homeless street kids in Gotham's future. 

Jason didn't have much of an opinion on this. While these buildings weren't legally theirs, the sheer number of homeless children finally had a temporary escape from huddling in dilapidated, drafty ruins or abandoned shacks. That alone was a rare good thing. 

More importantly, the Gotham City Police Department's list of homeless children used to be quite detailed. Recently, people had started eyeing that list. Many had begun to notice the significant improvement in these children's health. 

So many healthy, able-bodied, normally developing children were a treasure trove in themselves. Whether for human trafficking or organ sales, anyone who got their hands on that list and used it could reap monstrous profits. 

Not to mention, they might even pry the secret of how everyone recovered so quickly in just one winter out of them. 

But now, no one dared to target them. Because Santa Claus might be a legend, but St. Patrick had truly shown a miracle. And the guns of the Romans and the Maronis were practically at their doorstep. Most importantly, the entire city of Gotham had witnessed everything these children did as helpers of the Tree Planter. In a sense, these children, along with the saint and the mourning, had become an untouchable part of the city's fabric. 

No one wanted to risk angering all of Gotham by going after them. Everyone knew that from now on, these children would be the ones planting trees for the departed, and this tradition might continue forever – indeed, people hoped it would continue forever. 

Between the moonrise and the sunset, time passed quickly. Gotham City eventually awoke from that green dream, and people returned to the unavoidable reality of their daily lives. 

Cody took this time to sort out and upgrade his panel and skills. It had been quite a while since he arrived in Gotham. During these days, he often squeezed in time to practice shooting, parkour, and physical training. While the actual effect of the practice wasn't necessarily strong, it certainly gave him a plausible reason for his skills improving – in the eyes of some, his rapid progress in these abilities was all thanks to this training. 

But in reality, Cody was just a perfectly normal person. He didn't have the cheat-like ability growth rate of those superheroes or supervillains, nor could he master so many skills in such a short time. 

Furthermore, to avoid his pretend magic actually touching upon certain taboos in this world, he even specifically went to a bookstore and bought a few books on occultism – he didn't necessarily need to know everything he could do, but he could get a rough idea of what he couldn't. 

What Cody didn't know was that those books, which sounded so serious and knowledgeable, actually had absolutely nothing to do with real magic. 

Finally, there was the matter of repairing and improving the Zen Garden. While buying the garden in an emergency only cost 10,000 Asset Points, the subsequent cultivation and facility improvements actually cost quite a bit more. Without the friendly sponsorship of the Falcone family, Cody would most likely be at zero Asset Points right now. 

Asset Points: $10627 

Panel: English Intermediate Mastery, Intermediate Motorcycle Riding Mastery, Intermediate Tracking Mastery, Intermediate Lockpicking Mastery, Intermediate Swordsmanship Mastery, Intermediate Physical Enhancement, Intermediate Blowgun Mastery, Intermediate Natural Language Mastery, Advanced Wheelchair Driving Mastery, Advanced Cooking Mastery, Advanced Car Driving Mastery, Advanced Firearm Usage Mastery, Advanced Stealth Mastery, Advanced Climbing Mastery 

Items: Will-o'-the-wisp Wheelchair, Undying Pumpkin Lantern, Sanity-dropping Pumpkin Mask, Horn of Abundance, Eight-sided Han Sword, Hacker's Kit (2 pcs), Eavesdropping/Tracking Lighter, Snowman Crystal Ball Music Box, Assassin's Blowgun, Portable Garden (Golden Watering Can, Plant Fertilizer8, Insecticide10, Gramophone, Gardening Gloves, Mushroom Garden, Aquarium, Flower Pots20), Pumpkins2, Frozen Mushroom1, Ice Peashooter1, Doom Shroom1, Sunflower10 

The Infinite Water large-area watering can, fertilizer for plants, insecticide, the gramophone and so on. The Mushroom Garden and Aquarium are two new spaces, which can be used to store fungi and aquatic plants. 

The Pumpkin Shield for self-preservation, the Frozen Mushroom for crowd control, the Ice Peashooter for combat support, the Sunflowers are to produce sunlight, which can be used directly later to purchase plants already bought once with Asset Points. 

As for the Doom Shroom... that cost the biggest chunk of Asset Points, but its power will also be the most terrifying. If possible, Cody really didn't want to use it – because its appearance in the game really looked like a nuclear bomb. 

... 

Just like that, time flew by, and unknowingly, April arrived. 

Today is April 1st, April Fool's Day.