The Mid-Autumn Festival dinner, much like the dumplings that day, brought everyone at Jiang Hai's manor even closer together.
That evening, Afra and the others thoughtfully withdrew, leaving Jiang Hai in the company of Qi Jie, Qi Ya, Ai Xiaoxi, and Feng Yunchen.
They say a short separation can rekindle affection—and it was true. Although Jiang Hai had enjoyed a fine feast at Pra Walton's place, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
He had his flaws: greed, lust, and the many weaknesses common to men.
As he often said himself, he was just an ordinary man who happened to get lucky.
He was human—full of desires and attachments. Like the kings of old, he might have many women, but he still had his favorites. For now, those favorites were Qi Ya and Ai Xiaoxi.
That night, the five of them played and talked until late before finally retiring. Under the bright, full moon outside, Jiang Hai lay with Ai Xiaoxi in his left arm and Qi Ya in his right. To be honest, he couldn't be more satisfied with life.
Tightening his embrace, Jiang Hai closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, he returned to his usual, ordinary routine.
It seemed as though the trouble caused by Du Famen had passed, yet only Jiang Hai knew that his income had quietly increased. The world was unfair—while the poor grew poorer, the rich grew richer. That was simply reality.
Jiang Hai wasn't a saint. He had no interest in changing the world. For him, life as it was felt just fine. He admitted he was selfish and narrow-minded, but who wasn't?
He had no lofty ambitions. Between saving humanity and enjoying a good meal, he'd choose the latter without hesitation.
He could eat whatever he wanted—anything that flew, ran, or swam. From cattle and sheep to seafood from the sea, the world's bounty was at his fingertips.
He lived surrounded by beautiful women who cared for him, beneath a blue sky and white clouds, free from pressure and worries. What more could he ask for?
Jiang Hai was content—deeply content—with both his life and the world around him.
In the days that followed, his life continued in quiet fulfillment, while his manor gradually changed. The construction of the outermost wall marked the official expansion of his estate.
As the weather grew colder, the contrast between Jiang Hai's original manor and the newly annexed land became clear.
Inside the old manor, the grass remained lush and green. Even with temperatures dropping into the teens, it showed no sign of withering. But the pastures in the newly incorporated area had begun to turn yellow and dry.
That was exactly what Jiang Hai had been waiting for.
In October, he and Robbins Garcia set their plan into motion. A week before, they'd used farm machinery to dig a firebreak—a trench about a meter deep and slightly wider—to prevent any fire from spreading beyond the pasture.
Then, on a crisp autumn day, Jiang Hai torched the dried grasslands, just as planned.
He'd long intended to replant with better grass and alfalfa, but first, the old grass had to go. Jiang Hai's cattle wouldn't eat it anyway, so rather than let it waste space, they burned it. The ashes would nourish the soil for the next crop.
Of course, not all weeds would burn completely—some roots would inevitably survive and sprout again come spring. But Jiang Hai had no intention of letting them thrive. Pennisetum and alfalfa were more than just feed; they could also suppress weeds, especially when nourished by Jiang Hai's spiritual energy.
"Wow, Boss, this is really something!" Robbins Garcia said, grinning as he watched the flames whip upward like a fiery tornado. Such sights were rare in his line of work.
In the United States, ranchers almost never burned their pastures. Even mediocre forage grass could be sold for money, and most cattlemen struggled just to produce enough feed for winter. To them, burning grass would be unthinkable.
"Haha, this stuff can't make us rich anyway. Did you get the alfalfa and pennisetum seeds I asked for?" Jiang Hai asked with a smile, glancing at Robbins Garcia, who looked back at him half in admiration, half in disbelief.
"There's so much grass here I couldn't finish it all if I tried," Jiang Hai chuckled.
"It's all arranged—we'll start planting next spring," Robbins replied, still smiling. He truly admired Jiang Hai.
He'd worked here long enough to witness the transformation firsthand.
Once, Green Forest Manor had been utterly ordinary. Then Jiang Hai arrived, and everything changed.
Pastures that once raised common cattle now produced the finest beef in America.
Fish farms that once bred ordinary stock now supplied some of the most prized seafood in the world.
Even the once unremarkable grasslands had become fertile, profitable ground.
To Robbins, Jiang Hai was nothing short of a miracle worker. Everything he touched seemed to flourish—and following him had transformed Robbins's own life as well.
He knew better than anyone how hard the life of a cowboy could be. But since Jiang Hai's arrival, the cowboys here were earning more than ever before. Their social standing had risen too—Robbins's word now carried more weight in Winthrop than that of many local officials.
With better income and newfound respect, why wouldn't he stay loyal to Jiang Hai?
"Haha, this is real money. I can't just walk away from that," Jiang Hai said with a grin, rubbing his nose.
The fire burned for two full days and nights before finally dying down by the third evening. When the smoke cleared, the land looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland—charred and gray, the air thick with the stench of ash and scorched earth.
The blaze had consumed everything: the grass, the insects, and even the rabbits and pheasants that had hidden in the fields. Despite their earlier search to drive out wildlife, it was impossible to save them all.
Most notably, the fire had wiped out the rat population completely.
Now, only the acrid scent of smoke lingered, carried by the autumn wind.
Here and there, faint embers still glowed in sheltered patches. The sight made Jiang Hai uneasy for a moment, though he quickly adapted.
The next morning, he and his crew—Robbins Garcia, Patrick Turner, Harriman Fell, Bennett Rodney, and Enol Ceci—set to work. They drove massive tractors across the blackened ground, turning the soil to mix the ash into the earth.
They weren't plowing for planting yet. Fresh ash was still soft, but if left alone, it could harden with frost or rain, sealing the soil and blocking future growth. By mixing it early, they ensured the nutrients would blend evenly before winter.
When the snow came and melted, the land would be ready for spring seeding.
It was simple but heavy work. With three tractors running all day, they managed to turn over all 15,000 acres before sunset. By nightfall, the job was done, and everyone finally rested.
Once again, Jiang Hai returned to his favorite leisurely routine.
To be honest, though, life was beginning to feel a little dull. When he'd first come here, everything was new—fishing, riding horses, herding cattle, exploring the town. But after two years, the novelty had worn off.
He was starting to feel... bored.
But fate has a strange sense of humor.
Just when Jiang Hai thought he had nothing left to do—his phone rang.