Everyone present knew the extraordinary effects of Jiang Hai's grass, and each wanted to claim it for themselves. Yet they also understood that it was nearly impossible to obtain it elsewhere.
In a sense, Jiang Hai's grass was like a scorpion's excrement—unique and unmatched.
So when they saw the stack of information Jiang Hai had provided, envy flickered across their faces. At the same time, they recognized that defeating all other competitors to claim the grass for themselves was unthinkable.
"I'm not a businessman, and I don't enjoy bargaining or scheming," Jiang Hai began, his gaze sweeping the room. "Right now, we are dividing the 3.3 million tons of forage that can be produced next year. I can guarantee that the effects of this grass will be at least as good as what you currently have. How this 3.3 million tons is distributed depends on your sincerity."
At his words, a man on the side grew restless.
"You claim this grass has such effects, but does it really? Seeing is believing; hearing is deceiving. You're selling grass two years from now—aren't you being a bit hasty?" The man put down the information sheet calmly. Many around him nodded in agreement.
Jiang Hai, listening quietly, took a moment before recognizing the speaker. This was Paul Casby, an Australian livestock tycoon. He owned roughly 700,000 acres of land, raising 1.2 million cattle and over 30 million sheep. In Australia, while cattle were valuable, sheep were more economically important—primarily for their wool rather than meat.
"Hello, Mr. Casby. I can answer your questions here. Believe it or leave," Jiang Hai said, tapping the table lightly with his fingernails.
Paul Casby's face flushed with surprise. Was Jiang Hai really bullying his clients because of his audacity? Indeed, he was. The grass belonged to him, and anyone who wanted it could buy it—or leave. Jiang Hai had no trouble selling it; the choice was theirs. Whether it was Dufamen or Luke Shawn, they could purchase all of it if they wished.
This meeting existed to prevent future disputes. Once the sale was complete, Jiang Hai could simply claim the stock was sold out if approached again, saving himself endless trouble.
Paul Casby, despite his embarrassment at Jiang Hai's bluntness, remained. He waved his hand and sat down, recognizing that leaving would mean forfeiting any claim to the grass.
Jiang Hai continued, "Now, let me explain the price. My estate produced a special type of grass—not ordinary alfalfa or king clover. Previously, I sold it to some of you for $150 per ton, but now I've upgraded its energy content and variety. The new price is $600 per ton."
A hush fell over the room. $600 per ton? Many could hardly believe it. The current market price of king clover was roughly $30 per ton. Jiang Hai's price had increased twentyfold.
Whispers filled the room. With 3.3 million tons, the total revenue would approach $2 billion, and after taxes, Jiang Hai would still net around $1.1 billion annually—just from this grass.
"Six hundred dollars a ton? We can't accept that…" Paul Casby began, but before he could continue, Du Famen raised his hand.
"Jiang, my friend, it seems they can't accept your price. Six hundred dollars? I'll take it all," Du Famen said, smiling at Jiang Hai, internally dismissing the others as shortsighted. Three hundred and thirty tons could feed one million cows for a year, potentially generating tens of billions of dollars in profit.
"No," Jiang Hai said calmly, "the agreement allows each person to purchase a maximum of 30%." He would not tie his financial lifeline to a single buyer.
"Look, no one wants it all. You have leftovers anyway, so sell them to me. If that doesn't work, I'll raise the price to $700 per ton," Du Famen suggested, his eyes gleaming.
Before Du Famen could continue, Luke Shawn intervened. "Then we split it in half?" He already had an understanding with Jiang Hai.
John Malone, seizing the moment, added, "Your Highness Dufamen-Weiha Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, we're not here for fun. We want this grass too."
The South Korean representative, previously haughty, finally spoke. "On behalf of the Republic of South Korea, I'd like to discuss this fodder issue with Mr. Jiang." His sudden assertion made the room tense—exactly the effect Jiang Hai wanted.
"Here's the deal," Jiang Hai said, smiling slightly. "There's a total of 3.3 million tons. Anyone interested, write it down, and I'll allocate it. If you think my distribution is unfair, you're free to leave."
Despite the tension, no one dared protest. Seventeen notes were soon collected by Moses Adams. Jiang Hai glanced at them and smiled. These attendees had come to test the waters, but they hadn't demanded impossible amounts. He could influence their purchases—the principle of "rare goods are valuable" was about to take effect.