There's a kind of grass that, when eaten by cattle, produces 100% marbled beef of exceptional quality.
If someone had claimed this three years ago, the livestock industry would have torn them apart.
But now it was reality—an undeniable fact—because this miraculous grass grew on Jiang Hai's estate.
Since the release of Du Famen's report, Jiang Hai's manor had become a viral sensation almost overnight.
And it wasn't just public curiosity. Jiang Hai's name now loomed large in the eyes of certain people.
Farmers and ranchers were desperate to know more, though they had no real way of pressuring Jiang Hai. Nations, however, were a different matter. For countries where livestock was a cornerstone industry—like the island nation of Korea—the grass represented an irresistible treasure. They were determined to uncover Jiang Hai's secret.
At times like this, Jiang Hai felt grateful that he had chosen America instead of remaining in China.
In the United States, so long as he could protect himself, the government—despite its flaws—wouldn't openly rob him of his discovery. It was a capitalist democracy that prided itself on freedom and human rights. This secret was his, and while the government might conduct its own research in the shadows, they wouldn't dare use brute force to seize it.
It was like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster. In the Iron Man movies, Tony Stark wasn't superhuman. All his power lay in his armor. The government pressured him to hand it over, but because he was wealthy, influential, and popular, they didn't dare force his hand.
That was Jiang Hai's position now. He had money, status, and powerful allies: ties to Du Famen, connections with the Walton family, immense wealth as Boston's top taxpayer, and the title of Winthrop's richest man. All these layers of influence made even the most ruthless players hesitate.
The timing also worked in his favor. With the Democrats in power and Massachusetts a Democratic stronghold, part of Jiang Hai's taxes naturally flowed into political donations. No politician there would dare move against him directly.
The only risk was being targeted in secret, which was why Jiang Hai had taken precautions, even bringing in Azarina and her operatives. That foresight might save his life someday.
He didn't waste time imagining what things might have been like had he stayed in China. The political system there was different, and the outcome would certainly not be as smooth as it was now.
For now, his enemies could only knock politely.
While major world powers still watched and waited, smaller and mid-sized players had already begun making moves.
Jiang Hai's address wasn't difficult to find. The very next morning, people began showing up at his Winthrop estate. Qi Jie, handling matters in his absence, simply hung up a sign: No visitors received.
Frustrated, one group after another was turned away. Their disappointment soon turned to resentment.
But Jiang Hai hardly cared. At least he wasn't stuck at home entertaining them. He hated socializing with those people the most. Their intentions were never pure, and Jiang Hai knew it.
So he ignored them.
When Pra Walton learned of the situation, she warned Jiang Hai that their vacation might be cut short. Still, she offered him a safe place to hide in her Atlantic City villa.
The next day, Jiang Hai separated from Burke Dahler and Robbins Garcia—who returned to manage the cattle—while he followed Pra Walton to her villa.
For three days, Jiang Hai's manor remained crowded with visitors. Countless forces arrived—some eager to buy his secret, some hoping to cooperate, some even wanting to purchase his entire estate. Failing that, many tried to buy his forage grass instead.
But with Jiang Hai gone, none got what they wanted.
When word spread that Jiang Hai was away enjoying himself, frustration mounted. Some even began searching for him in secret. None suspected he was lying low in Pra Walton's villa.
Pra, after returning from her short rest, threw herself into her work with renewed energy. Having Jiang Hai under her roof fueled her determination.
She first met with her family, reminding them not to waver. Jiang Hai's secret was his alone, and it could not be sold. Their path was clear: earn money honestly. Whether her warning had much impact was uncertain, but on the surface, the Walton family calmed down.
And indeed, they had little reason to interfere with livestock. Their empire was in retail. As long as they remained close to Jiang Hai, they could profit greatly—by supplying the very people who bought his forage grass and would soon be selling their cattle.
The Walton family saw the bigger picture quickly. On the fifth day, they made a public declaration: Jiang Hai was an honored guest of the Walton family. In doing so, they effectively stood alongside him.
This discouraged many rivals. Jiang Hai wasn't ungrateful either. Since the Waltons had supported him, he returned the favor. He passed along Du Famen's contact information, offering to serve as a go-between for beef sales.
The Waltons knew how to negotiate, and the deal was rumored to have been concluded swiftly, though Jiang Hai didn't involve himself in the details.
Even so, the stream of visitors didn't stop. Jiang Hai had only intended to hide for a week, but as September drew to a close, he grew restless. He wanted to return for the Mid-Autumn Festival, but he knew that if word of his return leaked, he would have no peace.
Just as he was weighing whether to quietly retreat to his manor, a message came from Valentina at Tamron Company in Boston.
"What? You found him?" Jiang Hai trembled at her words, his excitement nearly waking Colin Pavlovich, who was lying against him in a rather intimate spot. He quickly smiled apologetically, lay back down, and let her continue her movements.
These days, Jiang Hai spent his nights holding Pra Walton close, and his days caught up with Pra's women, who weren't about to let him rest. Thankfully, his body was strong enough to endure, or he'd have been exhausted long ago.
"Yes," Valentina confirmed. "We've located Bruce David. He's living in Los Angeles now, no longer running bars—he's become a complete scoundrel. We've also found the coordinates you asked for. It's in Redwood National Park, on the California-Oregon border. I've already sent Leilis to investigate. I'll update you as soon as I know more."
Two pieces of good news at once. Jiang Hai's eyes lit up. One lead related to the badge he had been seeking, the other to the possibility of treasure.
Since he couldn't return home yet, he might as well go to California. He could confirm the badge and verify the gold mine. As for returning it to the Toga tribe—he hadn't even considered it. He had found it; it was his.
Still, there were practical problems. How would he extract the gold? Under what pretense? How would he even gain access?
It would be troublesome, but Jiang Hai wasn't ordinary—and neither were his people.
"If anything changes, tell me immediately," Jiang Hai instructed before hanging up.
Still deep in thought, he suddenly gasped as Colin Pavlovich stirred. She lifted her head, concern in her eyes.
"Did its teeth scratch you?" she asked gently.
Jiang Hai chuckled, stroked the golden-haired cat in his arms, then tossed her playfully onto the bed.
(To be continued…)