"Sir, what's going on here?" The security guard eyed the pile of cow dung in front of him and cautiously addressed Jiang Hai.
"You want to ask me? Go ask the guy who ordered it dumped here." Jiang Hai pointed to a man standing distantly, his expression indifferent.
"Uh, Patton, what's happening here?" The guard approached the man Jiang Hai had indicated.
From the way the guard spoke, it was clear that this cowboy named Patton was an old-timer around here—otherwise, even the security guard wouldn't have recognized him.
"Nothing much. I was just pushing cow dung, hurt my hand, and accidentally fell. That's all." Patton responded calmly, careful not to say anything that could be used against him. With cameras everywhere, trying to blame Jiang Hai would only backfire by exposing his own wrongdoing.
"Well then, why don't you clean this up quickly?" The guard was surprised Patton admitted to it so easily. He had expected resistance, but with Patton's admission, the matter seemed straightforward. Whoever caused the mess should be responsible for cleaning it.
"Oh, didn't you hear me? My hand's injured. I can't use it. I'm going to the hospital now. Sorry." Patton shrugged and turned to leave.
"Hold on! You dumped this pile of cow dung right at my door. You're not cleaning it up, and you just want to walk away?" Jiang Hai's face darkened with outrage. He couldn't believe these cowboys would stoop to such disgusting behavior. It was either to provoke him or disgust him.
More importantly, if this continued, the judges hidden among the crowd wouldn't dare approach Jiang Hai's exhibition hall. Even if his cattle were exceptional, no one would see them. What good would that do? And even if the judges came despite the stench, they wouldn't be able to inspect his cows closely. If they gave him a random score and left, Jiang Hai would be the one suffering.
He wanted to confront Patton physically, but knew that wasn't possible in broad daylight.
"Look, I'm really sorry, but my hand's injured. You can't expect someone hurt to work. This is America—we respect human rights and freedom here." Patton's words carried a hint of disdain and smugness. He openly wanted to make trouble for Jiang Hai. Injured or not, who could stop him?
"You!" Jiang Hai narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, but Patton smiled and stepped back, then walked away.
"Boss, what do we do now? Want me to catch him and teach him a lesson?" Bell-Lester frowned and came over, clearly frustrated at Patton's escape.
"We can't just let this go… What do you think, Robbins?" Jiang Hai patted Bell on the shoulder and looked at Robbins-Garcia.
Robbins-Garcia gave a reassuring nod and walked over to the security guard who was still nearby.
"I want to see your manager. Tell them to come here immediately," Robbins-Garcia said calmly.
"Huh? You want to see the manager? What's the matter?" The guard looked nervous. Requests to see the manager made even security guards uneasy.
"Look around this exhibition hall. You should be familiar since you work here. We paid $1.3 million to rent this place for seven days—$1.3 million! Now there's a pile of cow dung in front of it that no one's bothered to clean. I want to know what your manager has to say about that. We either want to change the exhibition hall, or—according to the contract—receive triple compensation." Robbins-Garcia's serious tone made the guards visibly sweat.
Triple compensation might not be much for the exhibition organizers, but they'd never willingly pay $3.9 million. They'd sooner vent their anger on the staff.
"This... this is a mistake on our part. I don't think the manager needs to be alarmed. As for the cow dung... I will take care of it." The guard hesitated, biting back curses against Barton and Robbins-Garcia, the troublesome foreigners. He glanced at his subordinates, but they all avoided his gaze, reluctant to handle the disgusting task. Being a security guard here didn't pay well enough to deal with foul smells and muck.
Americans were picky about work—they'd rather avoid jobs that were unpleasant.
Seeing his men's evasive eyes, the guard sighed in frustration.
"All right, I'll leave it to you. If this mess isn't cleaned up in ten minutes, I'll come find your manager." Robbins-Garcia said sternly before returning to Jiang Hai's side.
Jiang Hai gave him a thumbs-up. Sometimes, an old-timer in the family really was a treasure. The security guards sighed inwardly.
The guard gritted his teeth—he was a captain-level employee here, not a temp. Quitting wasn't an option.
After hesitating, he finally took a shovel from Jiang Hai and his team, told his men to wheel the dung cart around, and forced himself to start shoveling. Eventually, he covered his nose and vomited from the stench, but stubbornly pushed the cart away.
It took half an hour, but the dung was finally removed. The smell, however, lingered.
Jiang Hai's team pulled out a water hose from the exhibition hall and flushed the ground, but the odor remained strong.
Very few visitors came to the beef cattle exhibition, and most avoided Jiang Hai's hall by taking detours.
The stench was unbearable. Jiang Hai and his team wore grim expressions.
What else could they do? Thinking of Patton, Jiang Hai's hatred deepened. He was sure this was deliberate.
Meanwhile, Patton returned from the hospital with a gauze bandage wrapped around his hand—just a disguise.
They quietly entered another exhibition hall, much larger than Jiang Hai's, housing nearly a hundred cattle of more than a dozen breeds, and bustling with visitors. A sign outside read SSR.
SSR was one of Texas's largest livestock companies, and it was the company where the man who had conflict with Jiang Hai worked.
Patton went straight to the lounge next door. There, he spotted a man flirting with a female employee. Patton cleared his throat and knocked.
The woman quickly stood, fixed her clothes, and winked at Patton as she left. Patton's eyes followed her, but the man inside noticed him.
"Well, how's it going?" The man pretended to be reviewing documents as he spoke.
"Done. Jiang Hai's really digging his own grave. He's offended all the cowboys in Texas—and you too. If he'd participated in anything beyond this livestock exhibition, I would've dealt with him by now. If it was the cowboy competition, I guarantee he wouldn't have come out whole." Barton's face showed a flattering expression as he stepped forward.
The man smiled slightly. This was Roland Shalid—the one who had the conflict with Jiang Hai. He'd been thinking about how to deal with Jiang Hai for a while, reluctant to act openly because Jiang Hai wasn't lacking money and could embarrass them through official channels.
He had to resort to underhanded tactics.
Then he heard Jiang Hai had angered all the cowboys in Texas.
In Texas, offending a white cowboy was basically offending all cowboys.
Roland had also heard how these cowboys planned to handle Jiang Hai.
To be honest, they were simple-minded—blocking Jiang Hai's exhibition hall like local troublemakers, just sitting there preventing access without direct confrontation.
They thought if they stopped the judges from entering, Jiang Hai's cattle wouldn't be scored, and he wouldn't win awards no matter how good his stock was.
Roland laughed upon hearing this.
If that happened, Jiang Hai would simply notify the organizers. They wouldn't tolerate the cowboys blocking the event, and would dispatch security to remove them.
If a fight broke out, Americans loved a good spectacle, and that would only build support for Jiang Hai.
If they wanted to truly ruin Jiang Hai's exhibition, they needed a more underhanded approach—make people hate his hall deeply and avoid it altogether.
Spreading rumors wouldn't work on such short notice, and Jiang Hai being a foreigner made it less effective.
So they went for the direct approach: prevent people from entering. That morning's scene was a result of that plan.
Patton was a cowboy and member of Roland's company. What he did was on Roland's orders.
He was a talented actor who hated Jiang Hai to his core.
"Boss, we handled Jiang Hai well today. What about tomorrow? More cow dung?" Patton rubbed his hands, smiling as he spoke seriously about continuing their campaign of harassment until Jiang Hai was gone.
"Tomorrow it'll still be cow dung, but we'll add a few 'ingredients'..." Roland chuckled, remembering Jiang Hai's expression when he saw the dung cart. The angrier Jiang Hai got, the happier he was.
"How was it today?" As the sun set and the exhibition wound down, groups of tourists left, and the cattle and cowboys returned to their places.
After Jiang Hai's cattle were settled, Robbins-Garcia took the first shift. Burke Dahler returned for the second half of the night. At dawn, Jiang Hai and his team came back to drive the cattle to the hall.
Afterward, Jiang Hai returned to his hotel, where Cheryl Lee was waiting.
Noticing his tired expression, Cheryl asked, "Troubles? Why are you the only one here? Where's Pra Walton?"
Jiang Hai chuckled. "Pra will be back later tonight. She's treating some staff from Sam's Club to dinner. Connorson Peters is with her."
"Ah, she's not here… I was hoping to ask her opinion." Jiang Hai threw his coat on the sofa and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
He felt this matter was far from over.