"If nothing unexpected happens, tomorrow should be fine," Jiang Hai replied after a brief moment of thought. In truth, he could have arranged the meeting for this afternoon, but there was no need to rush. He wanted to appear indifferent—as though the deal wasn't particularly important to him. In reality, he didn't care much about it.
"In that case, that's great. I'll come back tomorrow then," Luke Sean said with a satisfied smile. After a few more polite exchanges, the three shook hands and parted ways.
As they stepped out of Jiang Hai's exhibition hall, Anthony Sean—who had remained quiet for most of the conversation—turned to his father.
"Father, I don't understand. Why don't we just analyze the composition of his grass and make our own? Or better yet, why not just buy his ranch outright? Why keep buying from him like this, especially when he holds all the cards?"
To be fair, their family's influence in Texas was equivalent to Jiang Hai's in Winthrop. They were used to getting whatever they wanted. This was the first time they had gone out of their way to seek cooperation.
"You don't get it. Jiang Hai is very useful to us," Luke Sean replied with a cryptic smile.
"I still don't quite understand..." Anthony muttered, confused.
"My son, you're still young," Luke said with a chuckle. "The fact that Jiang Hai can confidently sell his grass means he knows we can't replicate it. That alone tells us a lot. For now, we cooperate—to build a relationship and to hedge against competition from the Middle East. Do you really think the Dubai royal family is raising cattle just to enjoy good beef themselves? They've got over a million head of cattle. Eventually, they'll flood the European and American markets. Asia's premium beef scene is already dominated by Japan. So, when the time comes, who do you think will suffer the most?"
"Montana... and us?" Anthony asked, his eyes lighting up in realization.
"Exactly. If we work with Jiang Hai, we protect our own market while keeping an eye on the broader picture. It's all upside. And just because we can't crack his formula now doesn't mean we won't someday. When that time comes..." Luke trailed off.
Anthony smiled knowingly. "Like the Chinese saying—'The one closest to the water gets the moon first,' right?"
At that moment, Jiang Hai had no idea what the Seans were plotting. But even if he did, he'd probably just laugh. Figure out the secret of my grass? What a joke.
There was only one Dragon Ball in the world—and it was inside Jiang Hai. Unless someone cut him open and studied him, there was no way to replicate it. And with his current status—worth billions, backed by Walmart, connected to Dubai royalty and Chinese authorities—unless he willingly walked into danger, no one dared to touch him.
Cows, fish, grass—study them all they wanted. So long as they didn't cross the government's line, Jiang Hai didn't care. After all, they would never succeed.
In the U.S., money ruled everything. No one would jeopardize their profits, not even these so-called elites.
"I hadn't originally planned to introduce you to Luke Sean," Pravolton said, walking over after Jiang Hai's conversation with the Seans ended. "But I heard you were having some trouble recently, so I thought it couldn't hurt. Their influence in Texas is solid. If they speak up, your enemies might back off."
"What? Do I look like someone who needs others to take revenge for me?" Jiang Hai said with surprise. He had thought Pravolton was merely setting up a business deal—but clearly, she had other motives.
Still, it didn't matter now. Jiang Hai had already decided to take revenge himself.
"You want to do it alone? How, exactly?" Pravolton asked with a curious expression.
"I—wait, hold on a second." Jiang Hai was about to respond when his phone rang. It was Bell, and he sounded urgent.
"Get to the SSR exhibition hall entrance. Stay back and enjoy the show," Bell said quickly before hanging up.
Jiang Hai didn't hesitate. If Bell said there was a show, it was worth seeing.
"Come on, you'll want to see this," he told Pravolton with a grin, pulling her along with him.
To everyone in their exhibition hall—including Walmart staff—their sudden exit wasn't surprising. Everyone knew about Jiang Hai and Pravolton's relationship. If they left together, even to a hotel, no one would bat an eye… well, maybe they were already doing that. Just an analogy.
"Where are we going?" Pravolton asked, confused.
"Just follow me," Jiang Hai replied as they rushed toward the SSR hall.
It had been about thirty minutes since Jiang Hai last left the area. That was just enough time for the drug to kick in.
"Ugh... what the hell?" Roland Shalid groaned in the lounge, waiting for news from Willy Barton. His stomach twisted painfully.
He brushed it off at first, thinking it was nerves. But as the pressure grew stronger, he realized he really needed the bathroom.
Grimacing, he stood up and hurried out—only to find the bathroom occupied.
"Boss? You need the toilet too?" a staff member asked, clutching his stomach and grinning in pain.
"What's going on with you?" Roland asked, now visibly worried.
"No idea... maybe it was breakfast. Everyone's got diarrhea. This is my fourth time. H-hurry up and come out, I can't hold it anymore!" the employee groaned, pounding on the stall.
Jiang Hai's sabotage had hit everyone equally—an indiscriminate strike. The staff drank water from the dispenser. VIP guests had bottled imports from Europe, but the employees had been the main consumers of the tainted water.
Roland had been lucky, sitting in his office for most of the past half hour. But the employees had been busy talking and explaining, growing thirsty and drinking more and more of the drugged water.
Now the line for the toilet stretched long—and Roland's pride couldn't get him special treatment in the land of human rights.
He tried to hold it, but realized he wouldn't last much longer. So, with as much dignity as he could muster, he headed for the next exhibition hall's bathroom.
Just then, Jiang Hai and Pravolton arrived and spotted him.
"That's him?" Pravolton asked, surprised.
"Yep. Watch how I get my revenge," Jiang Hai smirked, wrinkling his nose and stepping back.
His enhanced senses picked up something… foul.
Though Pravolton didn't smell it, she followed Jiang Hai's lead and stepped back too.
From a distance, the sound of a cart's wheels echoed down the path. The smell hit the crowd before the sight did. People stepped aside instinctively as a cowboy pushed a cart piled high with… something foul and indescribable.
Jiang Hai recognized him instantly—it was Bell, dressed in Willy Barton's old cowboy clothes, complete with a matching arm bandage. The hat brim was low, but Jiang Hai knew that face.
As the cart approached, Roland noticed the stink and the oncoming pile of doom. His panic surged—and as he turned to run, the strain triggered a disaster.
With a squelch and a whistle, Roland's intestines gave out. His pants sagged under the weight, and yellow liquid streamed down his legs. The croton-laced mess was far from solid.
But before anyone even registered what had happened… the cart hit.
Its contents—an unholy mix of human, cow, and mystery sludge—splattered all over him.
Bell put on a panicked act, apologizing in a thick Texas accent, then vanished into the crowd.
And there stood Roland, frozen in filth, still losing control of his bowels.
The stench was unbearable. The crowd dispersed. Nearby exhibition halls slammed shut. Only Roland remained—surrounded by cameras.
"Willy Barton, I'm going to kill you! I swear I'll—ugh—" Roland screamed. But as he opened his mouth, flies rushed in. He gagged, lost his balance, and collapsed into the slop—still leaking.
"That's your revenge? Oh my God… I need to get out of here. That's disgusting!" Pravolton covered her mouth and stumbled away, horrified and retching.
Jiang Hai scratched his head. "Well… I didn't expect it to be that effective."