"Does it look good?" Bernice asked, panting and sweating all over as she glanced at Jiang Hai. He was sprawled out on a white jade recliner, his body seemingly falling apart from exhaustion. She gave him a playful, somewhat unhappy look, her eyes sparkling with charm. Jiang Hai just chuckled quietly.
To be clear, they weren't doing anything inappropriate. Bernice was sweating because she had been exercising.
Cough — why does it seem the more I explain, the less clear it gets? Yes, she really was exercising. Every morning, she got up to train.
She started with running, then moved on to a set of boxing exercises. I don't know the exact name of the routine she followed, but it was an intense physical workout. After each session, sweat would bead all over her body, steam rising off her skin.
Of course, it helped that the weather was warm. It was mid-September, but temperatures remained fairly high—ranging between 23 and 25 degrees Celsius during the day, dropping to about 14 degrees in the mornings and evenings. Not cold enough to make anyone's breath visible.
At that moment, Bernice had just finished her boxing routine on the lawn in front of Jiang Hai's villa. Jiang Hai was half-reclined on the chair, watching her practice. Though Bernice hadn't absorbed Jiang Hai's spiritual energy directly, the beef and fish she ate—infused with spiritual energy—combined with her constant exercise had clearly made a difference.
Her figure and skin quality had improved noticeably since she arrived.
Her black vest, draped loosely over her upper body, appeared at least one size too large. Asian women often struggled with average proportions, but Bernice now seemed to be catching up to European and American standards. Even facing Aphra and the others Jiang Hai had encountered, she wouldn't look out of place. Jiang Hai didn't know all the details, but at least on the surface, she looked impressive—her red waistcoat peeking out, faintly defined abdominal muscles, slender thighs wrapped by her workout clothes, and a curvaceous figure. If Bernice's current photos were posted online, she'd probably become the new generation's "otaku goddess."
Compared to Bernice's energetic routine, Jiang Hai was much more relaxed. He used to get up every morning to run himself.
At first, it was to better control his body and become stronger. But after multiple upgrades, even as his physical strength increased, he no longer lost control of his power.
Jiang Hai used to practice Bell's fighting techniques to maximize his combat efficiency. But now, with strength four times that of an average human, no matter how clever the technique, forceful movements risked injuring his own bones and tendons. When your strength surpasses your opponent's limits, all complex strategies become irrelevant. One powerful strike could easily end a fight.
To put it simply: imagine a modern army transported back to the Three Kingdoms era, fully equipped without worrying about supplies. What strategy would they need? No need for counselors or generals. Missiles, planes, and tanks would dominate. Eventually, everyone would live in a global village, connected heart to heart.
For Jiang Hai, this meant he didn't really need to exercise anymore. He believed no enemy existed who couldn't be defeated with one punch—or two, if necessary. This mindset made him too lazy to bother with refining his skills.
Another reason was that Jiang Hai used to have trouble sleeping without anyone around, suffering from insomnia. So he'd get up early and run, using exercise to burn off excess energy.
Now, with no extra energy to vent, he didn't need to do that anymore.
"Are you okay? I watch you every day, and you never change your routine," Bernice said. If this were the old Jiang Hai, he might have felt embarrassed, but lately, his confidence had grown, and his expression thickened without realizing it.
"What? You want me to practice in a bikini?" Jiang Hai replied. Bernice rolled her eyes, completely ignoring his teasing gaze. She picked up the grape juice he had placed on the table and drank it, not minding that he had taken a sip earlier.
Jiang Hai not only kept a large quantity of grapes for winemaking but also squeezed plenty into juice.
Ordinarily, juice made from grapes meant for wine was harsh—thick skins and large seeds made it sour and astringent. But Jiang Hai's grapes, enhanced with spiritual energy, tasted sweet and delicious. The juice was surprisingly good.
"What's so great about bikinis? It's not like I haven't seen you in one before," Jiang Hai said, taking back the grape juice Bernice had set down.
Bernice couldn't resist giving his leg a playful pat.
"What? You still want to see me naked? If so, come to my room at night. I sleep on the first floor—you're welcome anytime. But if you get wild, I might not be your match. Just consider it payment for room and board," she teased fiercely. Jiang Hai was left speechless.
"You female hooligan..." Jiang Hai muttered, always caught off guard at moments like this. After snorting, he picked up his phone to play games. Seeing how unfazed he was, Bernice snorted in response and went inside to shower.
Watching Bernice walk unsteadily, Jiang Hai smacked his lips, briefly mourning for her future husband.
Having such a strong wife might not be a good thing.
But that was irrelevant to Jiang Hai for now. His interest in women had dropped sharply lately.
Men can easily get carried away or distracted by fleeting desires, but afterward, they often become saints—without cravings or aggression. Jiang Hai wasn't in saint mode, but his libido had decreased significantly. He thought this was a good way to live.
"Boss, the sun's out!" Burke Dahler called out from a distance, driving a huge tractor loaded with fresh grass.
One-third of the fodder was for the cows on Jiang Hai's manor; the other two-thirds were for storage. Jiang Hai had asked the cowboys to start storing green grass for the winter and for Du Famen, whose own ranch was preparing to open.
Although Du Famen's ranch was massive and would take time to build and stock cattle, Jiang Hai's stored grass would be delivered there once ready.
To Burke Dahler and the others, the grass grown on the manor wasn't just feed—it was "green dollars." They couldn't believe Jiang Hai's grass could sell for such a high price. It was astounding.
Jiang Hai, however, was calm—he had long been confident his grass was valuable.
"Well, how are the new cows?" Jiang Hai sat up, smiling as he asked.
"They're adapting well. This is the start of the cattle sale, so we didn't have as many to choose from as last year, but their quality is better. I believe this batch won't disappoint you," Burke replied with a smile.
Jiang Hai and his team had purchased new cattle days ago, including breeding stock. The manor's ranch was now fully operational, and the cowboys, previously idle, had become busy again.
Their income was directly tied to the cattle's value. Jiang Hai paid good salaries—not the highest in the country, but above average. The bonuses, however, were enormous, unmatched by any other cowboy.
That was why they worked so diligently.
After selling all the bulls last year, Jiang Hai had made a total of 1.47 billion US dollars.
Seven hundred million went to taxes. Of the remaining nearly 800 million, after initial payments, Jiang Hai had set aside 5 million for year-end bonuses.
There were five cowboys: Robbins-Garcia, Burke-Dahler, Philemon-Turner, Harriman-Fiers, and Bell-Lester. Each would receive a million-dollar bonus.
Jiang Hai had mentioned this casually over drinks, but the cowboys went crazy.
When had a cowboy ever earned over 1.3 million a year? Even after taxes, it was a fortune.
They used to pay the lowest taxes; now, they were happy to pay the highest. That was the difference!
Though the money hadn't been handed out yet, they all believed Jiang Hai's promise.
Philemon even joked about bringing his two sons to work as cowboys. They both worked hard outside and earned hundreds of thousands a year, but combined, they still didn't make a fraction of what he earned in a year. How embarrassing!