I am a master in India

Chapter 249 Ambush
Chandawuri District is located in the easternmost part of Uttar Pradesh, bordering Bagharpur in Bihar.

With a population of around one million, the county has no industry and relies entirely on agriculture for development, making it one of the most underdeveloped counties in all of India.

The people here are very poor, poorer than people in most parts of Uttar Pradesh.

Unfortunately, the people here have developed a habit of smoking opium—yes, not marijuana, but black opium.

This stuff is even more addictive; once you're hooked, you basically can't live without it.

Ram drove his truck along the country roads of Chanda Uli, where ragged farmers could be seen lying on the grass, smoking everywhere.

Some people get really into it, dancing around, crying and laughing all the while.

"Rambay, these guys can't survive without our opium," Jacob, the sidekick, chuckled by the car window.

"If they don't do something exciting with their lives, they'll go crazy," Ram said, shaking his head smugly.

The Tripati family also had business in Chanda Uli, not in arms, but in opium.

The profit margin on this kind of thing is higher than that of homemade pistols, so they certainly have no reason to let it go.

Right in the back of the truck Ram was driving, there was a tall pile of carpet.

That wasn't an ordinary carpet; the carpet was just a cover. Hidden in the crevices were long, flat strips of dark chocolate.

In the underworld, people don't directly refer to opium; instead, they use dark chocolate as a euphemism.

And you know what? Judging from the color, that thing really does look a lot like dark chocolate.

When sold at retail, opium is made into round pieces, some as big as a biscuit and some as small as a coin.

Long strips sewn into carpets are typically wholesale items.

Besides sourcing truck parts in Chanda Uli, Ram also sold off a batch of dark chocolate.

It's true that this place is very poor, but the poorer the place, the better the sales of dark chocolate.

The farmers lying by the roadside had spent almost all their savings on dark chocolate.

"Bang!" A gunshot suddenly rang out not far away.

Ram and the others were startled, thinking that someone was robbing them.

Upon closer inspection, it became clear that several people carrying guns had entered a house in the village.

Their unsteady steps made them seem as if they were hunting.

A man knelt on the ground with his hands clasped together, a pleading look on his face.

Bang! The man fell to the ground.

A child ran by, and bang! The small figure flew out.

The old man sat in the chair, his eyes vacant.

*Thud*, a knife was plunged into her chest.

A teenager, barely out of school, rushed over from a distance, shouting. Bang! Bang! The sound stopped abruptly, and everything settled down.

The women were pulled together one by one, and the group took off their clothes and then took turns coming forward.

After it was all over, he picked up his gun and fired a series of shots, and the family was no longer standing.

From the inside out, from small to large, a dozen or so people, they're everywhere.

“Their guns look like they came from our factory?” Jacob, the sidekick, noticed something interesting.

"Yaar, that's our gun, the quality is perfectly fine." Ram shook his head dismissively.

He didn't understand what his father, Kalin, was so nervous about. Look, these guys fired more than a dozen shots, and none of them exploded.

"The bullets are fine too, they're all one-shot kills," another henchman commented.

"Most of them are original products from the police station, so of course there's no problem."

"But haven't they killed too many? The police have a monthly death quota." They know all about these things.

"I heard there's a driver here who killed his employer in the city and fled. This must be the place."

"Ah, that's really damnable."

When you become a servant in India, the first thing you have to do is tell your master which village you come from, where you live, and how many people are in your family.

Only after the master has verified the specific circumstances will he believe in the servant's loyalty.

Why? Look at those dozen or so families who were just killed; that's the reason.

If a servant deserts, the master will not hesitate to exterminate the entire family.

If they don't do this, how can they consolidate the foundation of their rule?

The driver who killed his master was challenging the entire ruling system of India.

His master, neighbors, and other villagers—no one would sympathize with them. Even the family members themselves would feel that their home was burdened with sin.

In most cases, no inhuman creature would dare to betray its master.

However, even in a cage of a billion people, there will always be one or two outliers.

Such a spectacle of wiping out an entire family is not something we see often.

"Rambay, there seem to be police ahead," Jacob, the lackey, suddenly said, pointing into the distance.

"Huh?" Ram looked up and saw a police motorcycle parked ahead on the dirt road.

The policeman was holding a bamboo stick and standing in the middle of the road, signaling Ram and the others to stop.

Without turning his head, Ram patted the back wall of the driver's cab. "Damn it, there are police here. Get ready."

This is Chanda Uli, not Mirzabul.

The Tripati family's influence doesn't extend that far; the local police could easily stop them.

"What's in the truck?" A policeman wearing sunglasses stepped forward and knocked on the truck door with a bamboo stick.

“Carpet, sir.” Ram smiled.

"Get out of the car and open it so I can see." The policeman tilted his head.

He was originally here to keep watch. After the massacre, as a policeman, he would take a picture and write a report to end the matter.

The gist of the story is that multiple people have died in a certain village, and the cause is unknown.

Having accepted bribes, the police certainly know how to write a report.

However, there was another out-of-town truck on the road, which was a pleasant surprise.

If the other party is sensible, they will usually offer a bribe.

“Sir, it’s just a carpet.” Ram said reluctantly.

"I told you to open it and show it to me." The policeman pointed at him with a bamboo stick.

"Okay." Ram got out of the car.

Reaching the back of the truck, the policeman tapped on the cargo bed with a bamboo stick. "Open the door!"

The two henchmen inside the car were frantically stuffing the problematic carpet into the back. The smell of dark chocolate was easily recognizable to many police officers, so they had to hide it.

"Open the door!" the police knocked again.

Ram, who was standing behind him, swallowed hard, then exchanged a glance with his little follower Jacob, and the two of them simultaneously reached behind their waists.

"Why did it take so long? Open the door!" The policeman knocked even harder.

A soft click of the bolt came as Ram raised his gun.

Just as the police were about to climb into the truck, the truck bed suddenly opened.

Two henchmen squatted there, panting heavily.

"Why did it take so long to open the door?" the policeman asked.

“We’re asleep, sir,” the henchman replied.

Why are you all so sweaty?

"It's too hot in the car, sir."

The policeman nudged the carpet with a bamboo stick. "Why is it so hard?"

“This is an old carpet,” Ram said, stepping forward after putting away his gun. “Sir, I also recycle second-hand carpets.”

He calmly handed over a few rupees; of course, it would be best if he didn't have to use a gun.

Judging from the way the policeman acted just now, Ram thought he had received some kind of tip-off.

He casually stuffed the rupee into his pocket, and the policeman waved his bamboo baton. "Let's go!"

Ram and the others got into the car, then quickly started the engine and drove away.

"Damn it, if you guys had opened the door any later, that guy would be dead," Ram cursed behind him.

"Rambay, there's a lot of cargo this time, so it took a bit of time," the henchman explained.

"Luckily, he was a normal policeman who accepted bribes, otherwise we would have to go home now."

Before leaving, Ram had assured his father that he would handle the matter perfectly.

This is the first time he has independently completed the family business. If he does well, Kalin will give him more power in the future.

Ram wanted to prove himself, that he was a worthy successor and the future King of Mirzabul.

The dark chocolate deal went smoothly. The head of Chanda Uli was named Shabnan, and he and Kalin had a long-standing friendship.

Shabnan originally intended to invite Ram to his territory and give him a proper welcome.

But Ram was thinking about a pair of sisters in a town to the north, so she didn't stop and continued driving north.

As dusk approached, they arrived at the town, which was bustling with people.

Ram had been there a few times before, and he went straight to the milk tea stall downstairs in a certain building.

"How are you, Tribwan?"

"I'm fine, sir, it's been a long time." The stall owner quickly bent down and touched his feet.

"So," Ram pointed upstairs, "I went up?"

"Sir, wouldn't you like a cup of milk tea?" the stall owner asked tremblingly.

"I'll come down in two hours," Ram said, shaking his head.

His entourage burst into laughter; one hour each for the two sisters, just right.

The stall owner forced a smile and presented a brown ceramic cup. "This is freshly made buttermilk. Would you like to try some, Rambay?"

His hands were shaking violently, and the smile on his face looked somewhat stiff.

However, Ram, whose mind was preoccupied with women, didn't notice this.

He waved his hand hastily and stepped up the stairs, saying, "Give it to Jacob and the others."

Suddenly, a woman wearing a sari and carrying a child stood up behind the stall owner.

She had a gun and aimed it at Ram.

"Rambay!" Jacob, the little follower, pounced over.

Bang! The gun aimed at his chest missed, and Ram was shot in the arm.

Ram's henchmen reacted quickly and drew their guns to fight back.

The woman with the gun was shot to death almost immediately, and the child next to her also perished.

Bang! Bang! Two of Ram's henchmen, who were fighting back, were shot and fell to the ground.

Jacob looked back and saw that there were also women shooting guns at another stall behind them.

Damn, it's all women.

To lower Ram's and his companions' guard, the group sent out assassins who appeared to be harmless women.

Ram, who was lying on the stairs, raised his gun and pulled the trigger repeatedly, quickly killing the woman behind Jacob.

"Rambay, this is an ambush!" Jacob ducked to avoid it.

"Bastard! Who is it?!" Ram cried out in pain, unable to even hold onto the gun in his hand.

"Run! This isn't our territory." Jacob helped Ram up and prepared to get back into the truck.

They had only taken a few steps when two men with guns appeared across the street.

and also!

The assassins had double insurance; besides women, there were also men.

At the critical moment, Ram pulled Jacob in front of him to shield him.

Bang! Bang! Jacob's chest exploded in a spray of blood.

Using him as cover, Ram quickly returned fire, killing one of the two men.

“Larambai.” Jacob collapsed on the stairs, spitting out mouthfuls of blood.

Ram didn't even look back, and fled upstairs. His arm was injured, so he could only try to use the terrain to his advantage and outmaneuver the remaining assassin.

The last remaining assassin chased after them upstairs without hesitation.

His orders were to leave no survivors; success was the only option, failure was not an option.

The streets downstairs were littered with corpses, and the townspeople had long since fled.

Suddenly, two more figures stepped forward.

One tall and one short.

The taller one was in his early twenties, with a straight and upright figure. The shorter one was eighteen or nineteen, still looking somewhat immature.

(End of this chapter)