Miami outskirts, testing farm.
At noon, the sun blazed on the farm’s land.
Zhou Qingfeng sectioned off a rough orchard and set up an outdoor training range.
Wooden boards nailed crookedly formed covers, piles of old tires created obstacles, rusty old cars lay in the center, and a few dilapidated containers stood leaning.
It looked like a small town ravaged by a storm.
The place was shabby, yet he managed to turn it into a decent combat training ground – the terrain was varied, the ground was both dry and wet, the environment either sparse or dense.
Real guns were off limits here, replaced by paintball guns – colorful pellets flew everywhere, popping and splattering, the air filled with the smell of paint and the earthy scent of soil.
Zhou Qingfeng came here every few days to play for half a day, each time leaving the "Electric Flight" employees in disarray and wailing all over the place.
"Lux, where are those CIA skills? Don’t be a wimp!" Zhou Qingfeng shouted from behind a wooden wall.
As soon as he finished, he darted to the other side like a slippery eel.
When Lux, gritting his teeth, led four or five team members to flank him, hoping to catch him in a trap, what happened? They fell for the simplest "enemy deep bait" tactic.
Before they realized it, two rookies who were lying in ambush opened fire from behind – red paintballs splattered all over them like thrown paint.
Lux looked down to see his jacket smeared in bright red, looking like a painter who just finished a job on a construction site.
Yeager stood on a high platform in the training field, holding a whistle, overseeing as a referee. He glanced at Lux, shook his head, and his expression was complicated – whether in disappointment or reflection.
Lux and Yeager had both led teams in several bouts with Zhou Qingfeng on this field.
Two specially trained agents, yet they were often outwitted by this young man, rarely gaining the upper hand.
Lux wiped the sweat off his face, panting heavily, muttering under his breath, "How is this kid so cunning? Where did he learn these skills?"
When Lux first joined Zhou Qingfeng, he thought he was just a high-class nanny.
Just a newly-rich little boss, who should, by all reason, be arrogant and unruly, squandering all day, being extremely cocky.
But after spending some time together, Lux found out he was wrong – Zhou Qingfeng was nothing like those rash young people.
He had no interest in the pleasures of his peers, with minimal social needs, and was unconcerned with the lavish nightlife.
Julia was now acting as his housekeeper, and his monthly expenses went to basic needs; he frowned at spending an extra penny, living like a stingy old man.
Lux privately complained to Yeager, "This guy has enough money to bury someone, yet he doesn’t throw a single party, nor accepts invitations to others’ parties – what a weirdo."
But when it came to business, this kid had boundless ambition. He launched "Electric Flight," and in just over a month, it was already running smoothly.
Recruiting employees, optimizing products, actively promoting, continuously pouring in millions, every task done right and thoroughly, in an orderly manner like an old fox.
Sometimes Lux wondered if this guy’s brain was wired differently from normal people.
Zhou Qingfeng’s recent hobbies were shooting and physical training.
In the indoor range, he practiced with real bullets, the gunshots deafening, aiming steadily, firing at least three hundred rounds daily, his marksmanship visibly improving.
On the outdoor range, he practiced tactics, wielding a paintball gun, moving agilely like a leopard, with tactical awareness so sharp it made Lux’s scalp tingle.
He wasn’t just playing around; he was serious as hell – every ambush, transfer, and enemy bait felt like a real battle.
And every training session left him drenched in sweat.
As a paintball fight ended in the shooting range, the strong smell of paint lingered in the air, red and blue stains splattered on the wooden covers like abstract art.
In the distance, the gentle hum of electric golf carts could be heard as several Mexican servants arrived, with a portable cooler in tow, filled with iced drinks, distributing them to everyone.
Chilled lemon soda and pineapple juice shimmered enticingly in the sun, the bottles beaded with condensation, cooling hands and making everyone take huge gulps.
A sweet maid handed Zhou Qingfeng a towel, and after he removed his mask, she thoughtfully wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Dora, how’s your grandmother?" Zhou Qingfeng asked.
"My grandmother is much better; the doctor said she could be discharged next week."
The cute maid had healthy glowing brown skin under the sun, her cheeks still baby-fat, dimples at the corners of her mouth, and carried a coconut milk scent.
When she looked up, gratitude sparkled in her eyes, resembling a kitten relying on its owner.
"How’s school?" Zhou Qingfeng asked, cracking open a drink and taking a sip.
"I..." Dora’s voice softened, biting her lower lip, "I don’t really want to go to school, I want to stay by your side."
The little maid stared at her shoes, her cheeks reddening, showcasing the unmistakable signs of young love.
Lux, watching from the side, felt his eye twitch, a twinge of jealousy rising like he swallowed a lemon. How could anyone resist the little girl’s affectionate look?
But Zhou Qingfeng remained unmoved, "Dora, you have to go to school. I don’t keep useless people around, even women should be educated."
The light in Dora’s eyes faded, her little face crumpled, but she obediently nodded, softly replying, "Okay..."