Chapter 35: The Bond Deepens

Henry's appearance wasn't exactly slovenly, but it wasn't the dress of an upper-class person either.

His beard had been shaved off with a heat ray, but his messy hair certainly cost him points in other people's eyes.

And he was carrying an old backpack on his back…

Fine. That backpack looked stuffed full. If he'd come in with a flat, empty backpack, he'd look exactly like someone here to rob the place.

With Henry looking the way he did, of course no bank employee came forward to greet him. He didn't mind, and walked up to the information desk himself, asking: "Hello, I'd like to open an account. What procedures do I need?"

Henry was then directed to a small cubicle, where a black man in a crisp suit and a sharp, shrewd face sat.

"Mr., what can I do for you?"

Although this bank employee spoke politely, the arrogance in his words and expression couldn't be shaken off. As if he wanted to make it clear he'd risen above his original class.

Henry hadn't come here to make friends either. He set the old backpack on the desk, unzipped it, and revealed bundles of cash inside. He said: "Open an account. Deposit money. Please."

"We don't accept money of unknown origin here." The bank employee refused outright with a look of disgust.

Henry wasn't surprised. Banks were always sensitive about this sort of thing, especially in America.

If illicit gains could be easily deposited into the banking system, who would need to 'launder money'? Otherwise they'd let you deposit it, then freeze it with a court order later.

Unperturbed, Henry pulled out some documents and said: "This is the pay I earned working on a crab boat in Alasijiazhou. Here are my work certification, salary certification, and check copies, plus the redemption certificate from an Alaska bank. This is my social security card."

The employee took the certification documents from the desk, verified the official seals, and began tallying things up.

He also noticed the bills in the bag weren't bundled haphazardly, but had other banks' sealing strips. If they weren't from a bank robbery, they'd been withdrawn directly from a bank.

He asked as he worked: "How much would you like to deposit, Mr.? What kind of account would you like to open? Would you like us to recommend a financial investment portfolio?"

The disgust in his voice had lessened considerably. If he could close a financial deal, he'd get a bonus. That black face made his row of white teeth look even brighter.

"There's two hundred ninety thousand in cash here. Open a checking account with twenty thousand, the rest in a savings account. I want a checkbook, and apply for a credit card. Nothing else."

Henry stated his plan clearly; this was all advice gotten from Old Tom. While that guy's advice involving him was full of pitfalls, his advice on other matters was fairly reliable.

"We need to photocopy these certification documents, is that alright?" Although he hadn't managed to close a financial deal, the bank employee still asked politely.

"Go ahead."

The bank employee took the documents to find a copier, while having a colleague wheel over a bill counter with counterfeit detection to prepare to count the cash in Henry's bag.

Although the bills had the Alaska bank's sealing strips, when it came to money, even if it had come from one's own bank, once it had been out circulating for a while, no one would trust that the seals were still reliable.

But counting two hundred ninety thousand in cash didn't produce any of those entertaining mishaps that would give Henry a chance to slap someone in the face. After all, when a Kryptonian slaps someone, the result is truly a face gone forever—no one wants to see that.

Opening a bank account didn't require a fee, only an initial deposit. The money Henry was depositing was enough.

But the checkbook and credit card application both required additional fees. Henry had to dig out extra cash for these.

Anyway, he already had several thousand in cash on him, and after digging here and rummaging there, he scraped together the amount. But this whole routine made the black handling employee roll his eyes nonstop.

Putting on an act! Let's see you keep putting on an act!

Once all the procedures were done and he had his debit card in hand, Henry walked out of the bank, looked up at the sun at high noon, and felt his stomach growling.

The credit card required the bank to handle a credit check, so it wouldn't be completed that quickly. Since he didn't have a mailing address for the moment, that bank employee told him to come back in two weeks to ask about it.

Don't think that just because he's a big customer depositing over two hundred thousand, the bank would make an exception for him.

In fact, this was already the exception; otherwise, a person who hadn't even found a house yet, with no idea where to send a credit card bill, wouldn't even be able to apply at all.

However, with the bank account procedures completed, Henry felt his bond with this world deepen a little more, and that sense of really having transmigrated surfaced so abruptly again.

Those nearly twenty years of himself before, that blank stretch of solitary experience—if not for the torment of the last few years, he probably would have even forgotten what it meant to be human.

Even though what pulled him back into this world was the evil of human nature, Henry had never thought of going dark and taking revenge on the world.

As the saying goes, a worthless life before transmigration, a worthless life after. I just transmigrated into a Kryptonian, not a Celestial Dragon; since revenge wasn't taken on the spot, what's the point of taking it out on other people?

But actually, during that recuperation time in Alaska, what sustained him was still those memories from before transmigration.

Watching the classic old movies that existed in both worlds, hoping to find something that belonged to the him before transmigration, something from another world.

The unreal feeling of having come to a new world had never left him. Even battling those towering waves on the Bai Linghai hadn't changed it.

That feeling was like taking a max-level character to grind mobs in a newbie village—the waves can't make me dizzy, the cold can't freeze me to death, the king crabs can't hurt me, and making money is as easy as picking it up. This fucking thing is a game.

Fortunately, those boat captains didn't allow it, otherwise Henry could have spent the entire crab season on the boat.

But after arriving in Los Angeles, that max-level big shot feeling quickly faded from his body.

Perhaps it had to do with the path he'd chosen, where a Kryptonian's foundation couldn't really be put to use. It meant he truly had to start from zero, and in an unfamiliar field, doing things he'd never done before.

Or should he turn back and find something that could leverage a Kryptonian's advantages?

Like robbing a bank.

……

How did he end up back at robbing a bank again? But seriously, Henry had never once had the thought of selflessly helping people like an ordinary superhero.

Just look at those miserable superheroes in all those movies, TV shows, and anime—it makes you feel this isn't a promising career path.

He didn't have the great conviction of unconditionally dedicating himself, sacrificing the small self to complete the greater self. In the end, he was just an ordinary person.

Anyway, in one sentence, whoever wants to be a superhero can go be one; I'm just a salted-fish Kryptonian.

If you want to change my worldview, unless Marvel turns into a wasteland and leaves me no chance to slack off and lie flat!

If a salted fish still wants to flip over, is it still a proper salted fish?

Having steeled his resolve, Henry stood under the sunlight, feeling the power growing within his body. He also took a deep breath—this was the smell of Los Angeles.

His life had truly begun a brand-new second stage.

New book—please follow, bookmark, and recommend, thanks~~

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(End of this chapter)