Charmaine nodded. "Yeah, I understand, Grandpa. I just didn't think someone dressed like that could be a prodigious doctor. Logically, someone like him wouldn't be short of money, right?"

Henry chuckled. "Hehe. Savants like him probably treat this as training!" Severin had piqued his curiosity.

Charmaine's brows furrowed. "Training?" she asked, puzzled.

"Training the mind is a form of training," Henry explained. "Great recluses might choose to live in a city, keeping a low profile. Some savants can see through many things. Anyway, the thoughts of such recluses aren't something ordinary people can figure out!"

He chuckled, then said poignantly, "The Longhorns' success is in no small part due to a savant who helped us in the past!"

Charmaine nodded pensively.

Severin had reached a bank. He frowned at the purplish-gold bank card Old Wacko had left him. "Old Wacko said there's a lot of money in the account—he didn't even know how much! He also said I had to visit Dracodeus Isle on August 15th, for destiny or something. Well, there's over a month until then!"

As Severin caressed the Dracodeus Ring, also from Old Wacko, he smiled and entered the bank.

A richly dressed woman, laden with jewelry, yelled at a security guard, "Security! Security! Why isn't security doing their job? How could you let someone in such raggedy clothes in here? Is this a hobo shelter now? I can smell his poverty from a mile away!"

Severin had only taken a few steps inside when the woman spoke. The security guard approached, smiled awkwardly at Severin, and said, "Sir, please leave if you have no business here."

Severin's face soured. "What nonsense? Why would I be here without business?"

The guard, clearly uncomfortable, looked at the woman, then back at Severin. "What business do you have here, then?"

Severin flashed his bank card. "I'm here to withdraw some cash!"

"I see. There's an ATM over there…" the guard said.

Severin scoffed. "What if I want to withdraw a hundred thousand? Or two hundred thousand? Can the ATM handle that? I'm worried it might not have enough cash."

The woman scoffed sarcastically. "Pfft, ridiculous. A hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? I doubt your card even has that much!" She examined the card closely. "What kind of card is that? I've never seen it before. Did you find it on the side of the road? Oh, I know—you're from the loony bin…"

The bank manager arrived, asking casually, "What's going on here?"

The woman, loudly addressing everyone, continued her tirade. "Does your bank issue this kind of card? This kid's in rags, but he wants to withdraw hundreds of thousands! Does he even have that much money? Look! This fool's pretending to be a big shot with a card he probably picked up from the trash! Why isn't security throwing this hobo out? He's an eyesore!"

Her two bodyguards stood nearby. (The sentence about the website has been removed as it's out of place and promotional.)

Severin, ignoring her, stepped forward, slapped the woman, and said, "My clothes might be worn, but I'm a million times better than someone with a heart as black as yours!"

The woman, stunned, sputtered in rage, pointing at Severin. "See! He slapped me! Don't you know who I am?"

"I don't need to know who you are to slap you," Severin sneered, regarding her with contempt. "If supreme individuals like the Four Great War Heroes base their actions on my mood, I have nothing to fear from some rich woman in a small city."

"Are you trying to get yourself beaten up? She's the wife of Preston Kingsley, president of the Eastshine Group! How dare you slap her?" The bodyguards advanced aggressively.

"The Eastshine Group?" Severin feigned shock, then grinned. "Never heard of it!"

"You're asking for it!" The bodyguards lunged, but Severin swiftly kicked both to the ground.

The woman, initially arrogant, was now terrified, screaming, "Ah, he's… he's assaulting us!"

"Shut your mouth or I'll kick you too!" Severin threatened, causing her to shut her mouth. She was trembling. He then added, with a strange expression, "Didn't you say you're Mrs. Preston Kingsley? How embarrassing! Look everyone, she wet herself! She must be one of those from the loony bin."

The woman had urinated out of fear.

Humiliated and terrified, she tried to flee, but Severin's gaze stopped her. Bystanders laughed.

The manager frantically summoned the branch director. A man with gold-rimmed glasses arrived.

"T-t-that's him, Sir. He's causing trouble!" the female manager said, pointing fearfully.

The director, initially angry, was stunned seeing the card. "A V-V-V-V-Violet-Gold C-C-C-Card?"

Severin glanced at him. "Seriously? A stutterer's the president?"

The director, composing himself, said, "H-h-hello, Sir. Welcome. May I serve you personally?"

The female manager, noticing the director's obsequiousness, asked, "Sir, what's a Violet-Gold Card? I've only heard of Black Cards."

"You wouldn't have heard of it. Fewer than ten exist. They're held by powerful people. It's not something you can buy, even with billions. "

The manager's legs weakened. The Violet-Gold card was their bank's highest-level card—only ten existed. One was in Brookbourn.

Severin frowned. "Fcking hell! Is there really that* much money? That old geezer said there was 'some' money for me to spend!"