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MARVEL: CHINESE RESTAURANT

ShiroTL
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The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Kai Chen had no idea how he ended up in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City. One moment he was in his small apartment in China, the next he was standing in front of a bustling street, a neon sign above a building reading “Kai Chen’s Chinese Restaurant”. Before he could comprehend the situation, a strange notification appeared in his mind: “Welcome, Restaurant Owner. Serve your customers well to unlock and upgrade their abilities.” Shrugging, Kai Chen tied on his apron and stepped into the kitchen. As he began cooking, the aromas, flavors, and sheer precision of his movements caused an unusual energy to surge through him. Each chop, stir, and sizzling sear amplified his strength, speed, and senses. By the time he flipped the final dumpling onto a plate, Kai Chen realized… he had become the strongest being in the universe. Word spread fast. Soon, the greatest heroes and villains of Earth began visiting the restaurant—not for espionage, or revenge, but for the food. When a reporter interviewed the patrons, the responses were as follows: Kingpin (Wilson Fisk), his towering frame looming over the table, bared a rare smile: "Anyone who dares bother this restaurant… is my enemy. And that includes me if I can’t get my fill." Canonically, Fisk is territorial and pragmatic—he respects power. Here, the restaurant’s fame and Kai Chen’s strength earn his grudging approval. Iron Man (Tony Stark), fiddling with his gauntlet as usual, grinned: "This guy? He’s family. I’d back him up on any mission if it means he keeps cooking." Stark’s ego and loyalty come through—he always admires skill, genius, and excellence, especially when technology or talent is involved. Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff) leaned forward, smirking: "I’ll admit it—I’d go to any lengths just to eat here. The chef? Dangerous… but talented." Natasha’s pragmatic yet flirty charm fits perfectly. She admires skill and has no problem bending rules if it suits her tastes. Hulk (Bruce Banner), visibly shaking with restrained fury, muttered: "Not getting my food… from Kai Chen… makes me angrier than the Abomination." Hulk’s obsession with simple pleasures, when matched with his rage, is canon-consistent. The exaggeration is humorous but believable. Thor, holding Mjolnir loosely in one hand, his eyes lighting up: "A mortal chef whose craft rivals the feasts of Asgard? I would trade Mjolnir itself for just one bite!" Thor is dramatic and honor-bound; he recognizes power and skill, even in food. Exaggerated devotion to culinary mastery fits his personality. Thanos, seated with an unsettling calm, fingers drumming on the table, said: "I can spare your planet… Earth remains… but only if I can taste his cooking. Nothing else matters." Thanos’ obsession with goals and power is intact; here, his logic is twisted by Kai Chen’s culinary supremacy, which humorously threatens his universal ambitions. Kai Chen blinked at the line of cosmic heroes and villains praising his food. He had started as a humble chef, but now… in Hell’s Kitchen, he was the ultimate force of flavor, capable of winning over even the most powerful beings in the universe. This is a translation
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Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1 Golden fried rice

"Papa…"

A deafening burst of firecrackers shattered the silence.

Kai Chen jolted awake, his head pounding as if someone were hammering nails into his skull. He groaned, rubbing his temples, his voice hoarse with a hangover.

"Damn it… what kind of lunatic sets off cannons this early during the New Year?"

The noise grew louder—closer.

Dragging himself upright, Kai Chen grabbed a chair for balance and staggered toward the door, steps unsteady.

"Don't let me catch whoever's messing around," he muttered darkly. "I'll call the cops and report it straight to the Environmental Protection Bureau."

Bang.

The glass door slammed shut behind him.

Cold air rushed over his face, and Kai Chen froze.

The street in front of him was completely unfamiliar.

Old brick buildings. Rusted fire escapes. English signs everywhere.

"…What the hell?"

Before he could process it—

Snap!

A bullet ricocheted off a telephone pole, screaming past his ear before punching a hole through a nearby signboard.

Kai Chen's scalp went numb.

He dropped flat to the ground on instinct.

Holy shit.

That wasn't a firecracker.

That was gunfire.

Across the street, two groups were locked in a violent shootout—white men and black men trading bullets without cover, without hesitation. Glass shattered. Cars were riddled with holes. The entire block had turned into a warzone.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Kai Chen asked the question again, heart hammering.

Then he looked up.

The bullet-riddled sign above him read three characters:

Chinese Restaurant.

"Ah—!"

Pain exploded inside his skull.

It felt like a blade was twisting through his brain as memories that weren't his came crashing down in a flood.

Faces. Voices. Fear.

At the same time, Kai Chen caught his reflection in the glass door.

Unshaven. Sloppy. Hollow-eyed.

"…Why do I look like some washed-up middle-aged man?"

A name surfaced in his mind.

Hell's Kitchen.

His pupils shrank.

"…Don't tell me…"

Kai Chen shoved the door open and rushed back inside the restaurant, grabbed half a bottle of mineral water from a table, and dumped it straight over his head. Cold water streamed down his face as he stared out the window at the continuing gunfight.

No doubt about it.

He had transmigrated.

And not just anywhere.

He had landed in Hell's Kitchen—one of the most violent, lawless neighborhoods in New York.

Broad daylight gunfights weren't unusual here. The police avoided this place unless they came in numbers.

At night?

Hell's Kitchen belonged to criminals. No cop dared patrol it alone.

The original owner of this body was also named Kai Chen.

A Chinese immigrant. Owner, chef, and waiter of this failing Chinese restaurant—all rolled into one.

He pinched every penny he could, cutting costs wherever possible, but the restaurant still hovered on the brink of bankruptcy.

Last night, a group of street punks had come in for a free meal.

Not only did they refuse to pay—they tried to take the entire day's earnings.

Normally timid and submissive, the original Kai Chen had snapped.

Something broke.

He grabbed a kitchen knife and charged out.

The outcome was obvious.

The thugs looted the restaurant and left with their spoils.

The original Kai Chen… died.

"…Heh."

So the splitting headache wasn't from a hangover after all.

It was from being beaten to death.

Then—

A mechanical voice echoed inside his mind.

"Detected that the host owns a Chinese restaurant. Gourmet System successfully activated."

Kai Chen's heart leapt.

A system?!

A golden finger?!

Wait.

"…Hold on."

He frowned deeply.

Dude.

This is Hell's Kitchen.

Why the hell are you giving me a food system?

You want me to keep cooking, open a restaurant, scrape together money—just to get robbed or beaten to death again?

Are you messing with me?

Isn't the correct starter pack supposed to be a God of War system? An immortal cultivation system? Something that lets me punch through walls?

"Congratulations to the host for starting a gourmet life. Newbie gift package detected. Open now?"

Kai Chen deadpanned.

"You really don't want to reconsider the system type?"

"Newbie gift package opened."

"Congratulations to the host: Restaurant renovation complete."

"Congratulations to the host: Cooking Skill acquired — Golden Fried Rice."

"Congratulations to the host: Skill acquired — Poisonous Vine."

A translucent panel appeared before his eyes.

Name: Kai Chen

Level: 1 (0/100)

Cooking Skill: Golden Fried Rice

Skill: Poisonous Vine

(Beginner — allows control over vine growth; secretes toxins that cause paralysis and dizziness)

Before Kai Chen could examine it further—

"Restaurant renovation in progress. Please wait."

The world shimmered.

In an instant, the restaurant transformed.

The greasy, dim interior vanished. The stale odor disappeared. In its place stood a clean, bright dining space—simple but immaculate, with a fresh, welcoming atmosphere.

"Renovation complete."

"The kitchen has prepared ingredients for fifty servings of Golden Fried Rice."

"Please work hard, host, and allow more people to enjoy delicious food."

Kai Chen barely noticed.

His attention was on the skill.

At a thought, green vines slithered into existence around his hand, twisting and growing as he willed. They responded smoothly, obediently.

After a few tests, Kai Chen exhaled slowly.

"…This is basically Poison Ivy's ability, just weaker."

But even a beginner version was enough.

In Hell's Kitchen, that meant survival.

He dismissed the vines into system storage and turned his attention back to the restaurant.

Four large characters were pasted on the front door:

外菜莫入 — No Outside Food Allowed.

A massive menu covered most of the wall.

There was only one item.

Golden Fried Rice

Price: $100

"…The hell?!"

Kai Chen nearly choked.

One hundred dollars?!

Even by American standards, that was insane.

Who would pay that much for egg fried rice?

With that money, you could buy two burgers across the street and still get meat.

Only an idiot would eat here.

"Detected host doubts regarding food pricing."

"Host is entitled to one complimentary staff meal per day. Personal tasting will resolve doubts."

"…Only one?"

He was the chef and the boss, and he only got one work meal?

That's stingy.

Fine.

He'd see what kind of fried rice dared to cost $100.

Kai Chen entered the kitchen.

Surely there'd be shrimp. Beef. Some luxury gimmick.

Instead—

Steamed rice.

Raw eggs.

That was it.

"…That's it?"

A hundred dollars?

He scoffed, then instinctively slipped into chef mode.

Fire on. Oil in. Eggs scrambled. Rice added.

Thirty seconds later—

A bowl of golden fried rice was complete.

Each grain shimmered faintly. Egg coated rice evenly, glowing softly under the light.

It looked perfect.

But…

"…The portion's tiny."

No matter how much rice he scooped, the system forcibly reduced it. Two eggs became one.

In the end, it was barely the size of a grown man's fist.

Not enough for a child.

For $100, someone might beat the chef to death on the spot.

But—

Kai Chen inhaled.

"…It smells way too good."