I am a master in India

Chapter 251 Rush
As the ruling family of Mirzabul, the Tripati family naturally had no shortage of thugs and lackeys.

When Magob gave the order, the whole town began to stir.

Two or three hours later, as the sun rose, two or three hundred people had gathered at the entrance of the manor.

Boxes of weapons were carried up and placed on the table, mostly homemade pistols from the factory, with plenty of ammunition.

The elite troops are equipped with imported weapons, including AKs, submachine guns, and automatic pistols.

Those thugs who used to only be able to brandish knives, seeing the table full of pistols and ammunition, how could they possibly resist?
One by one, they excitedly stepped forward, grabbing and hugging, wishing they could take all the weapons away.

The gleaming bullets were scattered on the ground, and the long wooden table was pushed to one side and crooked over.

They were a complete rabble; they acted like they'd seen a woman without a sari when they saw a gun.

Bang! Magob fired a shot into the air.

The crowd immediately fell silent as they looked toward the manor gate, where Kalin, the King of Mirzabul, was slowly walking toward the steps.

"Twenty years ago, the Tripati family mercifully pardoned Tiraka's sins. But the traitor was not grateful; he lurked in the filth, waiting for his chance to take revenge. Just yesterday, my son, Ram! He was ambushed by Tiraka's men and died a violent death in Changudali. Magob, bring him up."

The gunman's body was placed in front of the crowd, and many of the elderly people in Mirzabul recognized him.

"This time, the Tripati family will show no mercy to the perpetrators!"

"Revenge! Revenge!" The crowd raised their guns and shouted.

Bang! Bang! Kalin fired two shots into the air. "Sombadra, move out!"

"Oh! Oh!" A group of people shouted as they climbed onto the truck, then raised their guns and started firing.

The gunfire crackled like popping beans, and the residents of Mirzabul stood on both sides of the street, watching the convoy disappear into the distance with expressionless faces.

Gunfire is heard every day in Uttar Pradesh, especially in the crazy east.

People are used to it, and even children don't have much awe for guns; they're just a part of their childhood.

Apart from the necessary defensive forces, the Tripati family mobilized almost its entire force.

Eight trucks roared south. They made no attempt to hide from onlookers, brazenly squeezing onto the highway.

The journey from Mirzapur to Sumbadra is 100 kilometers, and before the Tripati family members even crossed the border, Tiraka received the news.

Having been entangled for so many years, both sides had long since planted several spies in their respective strongholds.

Tiraka was prepared; the moment he learned that Ram had been shot, he anticipated Kalin's reaction.

However, he did not regret it. He had celebrated wildly at the manor last night, almost getting completely drunk.

That was his most valued son, a hundred times better than that good-for-nothing Ram.

If Sumbadra is handed over to him, he will be able to swallow Mirzabul in less than five years.

Tiraka once suspected that the Tripati family was so afraid of his son that they planted explosives at the scene of the shootout, willing to risk mutual destruction to kill him.

They knew Ram was no match for them, so they cleared the way for him in advance.

Now look what's happened. You killed my best son, and I killed your only son. We're even now.

After listening to the report from her informant, Tiraka hung up the phone and then waved her hand dismissively.

The trucks started with a rumble, and the convoy, which had been fully prepared, immediately set off.

"What did the Suer family say?" Tiraka got into an SUV.

“They said they definitely wouldn’t miss this good show,” the assistant beside him replied.

"Hmph, those cunning fellows, they won't act until they see the rabbit."

Since they are allies, there's no reason for Tiraka not to take advantage of them.

Both sides agreed that if war broke out, they would attack the Tripati family from two sides.

To be honest, Tiraka was not comfortable fighting alongside the Sur family.

His expectation of this "ally" was simply that they wouldn't stab him in the back.

If it's a fight, Tiraka will handle it herself.

The long convoy kicked up clouds of dust as it headed north.

"Master! The Tripati family has set off!" Muna rushed over from a distance.

“How many of them are there?” Ron asked.

"Eight trucks, at least three hundred people."

"Damn it, bro, thank goodness I listened to you and didn't go straight for it, or we would have been in big trouble!" Ratan hissed, his teeth aching.

"The accumulated knowledge and experience of several generations is certainly something that Crow and his ilk cannot compare to."

Ron was also a little shaken; this King of Mirzabul was not to be underestimated.

If it's just those two companies going head-to-head, regardless of the final outcome, they will suffer heavy losses.

Now that the two gang leaders from the North and South are fighting each other, they can simply stand by and watch.

Allies and being attacked from both sides? Just listen to them and don't take them seriously.

Ron just wanted to watch the show; the more brutal the fight, the better, ideally with rivers of blood.

If the time is right, he wouldn't mind taking them all out at once.

"So, brother, shall we set off now?" Ratan asked, a little impatiently.

“Let’s go, let’s go south and transport coal.” Ron got into the back seat of an SUV.

This is a new product that Ratan got; it's sturdy and durable, and perfect for the unpaved roads of Uttar Pradesh.

After the SUV came two vans, followed by a dozen or so heavy trucks running around the mine.

The cargo bed was very high, making it impossible to see what was inside.

At first glance, it does indeed look like a mining cart going to haul coal.

This was Ron's idea; it served both as a cover and a way to carry guns and ammunition.

The Suer Cement Plant has already obtained a coal mining license from the state government and reached an agreement with Tiraka. Isn't it reasonable for them to transport coal there?

The only downside was that many of these people were novices who had little experience with guns.

To put it bluntly, they are just a mob.

There's no way around it; those who know, know the quality of Indian soldiers.

Three people were chasing after hundreds of people.

Not only did the enemy refuse to surrender, but they also dared to retaliate against us?
Well, let's just join in the fun.

The sight of more than ten dump trucks was quite intimidating, and even the third brother, who usually liked to hitchhike, didn't dare to go forward.

Ron and his group's off-road vehicle was the fastest, speeding freely across the Uttar Pradesh plains.

They started from the north of Mirzabul, traversed the entire county, and then headed straight for Sumbadra in the south.

However! When the convoy reached the town of Mirzabul, the off-road vehicle in front suddenly turned around and headed east.

There is a small copper factory there, some distance from the town, and it is usually difficult for outsiders to get close.

The Tripati family would keep outposts here, and anyone who approached, except for familiar faces from within, would be driven away.

Today is an exception, because most of the manpower has been transferred by Kalin.

They're going to have a real fight with Tiraka. The two sides have been fighting for decades, and this time they're going to get serious. They can't afford to be careless.

The guards who used to carry AK-series assault rifles were gone; only a few older men carrying rifles leaned against the factory gate chewing betel nuts.

The elite troops are gone? That's wonderful!
Ratan directed the off-road vehicles to drive uphill and secure a favorable position. Then, a dozen or so large trucks lined up in a row at the factory gate.

The guards stared blankly, completely bewildered.

They assumed the truck in front of them was from Kalinbai, who had just left not long ago.
The truck bed was very high, and the guards didn't notice anything unusual.

Some of them wanted to step forward and question him, but at that moment Ratan suddenly got out of the car.

He casually looked around a few times while wearing sunglasses, then lit a cigarette as if no one else was there.

"Hey, what are you doing?" The guard took his rifle off his shoulder.

"It's from a demolition project." Ratan exhaled a smoke ring.

"what?"

He stopped talking nonsense, simply turned his back to the truck, and waved in the direction of the factory.

Boom! Boom! The truck bed side panels came down one after another.

Only then did the convoy reveal its ferocious side.

A dense array of gun barrels were pointed at the factory, with a Bren light machine gun mounted in the very center of each truck.

The guard gasped, his eyes widening in shock.

He wanted to shout, but it was too late!
Ta-ta-ta.
A series of loud, clanging sounds erupted in my ears as a dozen trucks suddenly unleashed streaks of orange-red fire.

The guards at the main gate didn't even have time to react before they were riddled with bullets. The merciless chains of fire tore through the air, and clouds of blood mist erupted in the factory yard as workers and guards fell one after another.

Someone ran out of the workshop with a gun, but before they could even leave the house, they were knocked away by the immense impact of the bullet.

There were clanging and banging sounds everywhere, occasionally interspersed with the sound of shattering glass and the screams of workers.

Some people tried to rush out from the side, but the people in several vans had already surrounded the factory.

They were carrying submachine guns; they didn't need to aim, they just had to fire.

Whether or not you actually hit anyone is another matter; the important thing is to build courage and see blood.

Yes, many of these people are novices, and Kalin's military factory is their training ground.

Ratan made another gesture only after no one else came out of the workshop.

The light machine guns were picked up, but they were still firing. Hundreds of men, with overwhelming firepower, slowly approached the factory.

With cover, the experienced gunmen quickly wiped out the remaining enemy in the factory.

"Master, everything has been washed clean," someone reported.

"Take the bullets, and deal with the rest of the junk yourselves."

A cheer erupted from the crowd; it was time for them to loot their spoils.

Don't let that homemade pistol fool you; it can fetch a thousand rupees or so, which is a lot.

Of course, the corpses lying on the ground would also be touched as usual, and there would always be some loose rupees.

“It’s almost time.” Ron got out of the SUV.

"They won't finish that quickly," Ratan said, shaking his head dismissively.

"The town must have heard the gunshots here, so they're taking precautions and making sure to finish this quickly."

"Okay, okay, I'll listen to you," Ratan whistled.

Soon, his men filed out of the factory, each carrying a large bag of spoils, beaming with joy.

"Send this godforsaken place to heaven." Ratan waved his hand and then got into the car.

The rumbling convoy started up again, but before it had gone far, a deafening explosion came from behind.

The entire arsenal was engulfed in flames.

Ratan and his men didn't even need to prepare gunpowder; the arsenal had plenty.

That's perfect, making the best use of resources.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief after taking down the Tripatty family's arms factory.

How can a place that continuously manufactures weapons be left with an enemy?

They did promise Tiraka they would attack from both sides, but taking care of the armory along the way wouldn't be a problem, right?

Such a great opportunity, there will definitely be more in the future.

The convoy continued its journey and was almost at the border of Sumbadra in just one hour.

Suddenly, Ratan, who was cleaning his gun, stopped.

"Did you hear that?"

“What?” Ron turned his head.

"Gunshots!" Ratan patted the driver's seat in the front. "Go to that high ground."

The closer to the east, the more common the hilly areas become. Only in this type of terrain can mineral deposits be found.

The SUV roared and charged toward the small hill to the right, and the vans behind followed suit.

The experienced Dorjee didn't drive the car to the top, but instead stayed half a body length behind, which would conceal their position.

Ron and Ratan got out of the car, took two steps forward, and found the highest point of the hill.

The view suddenly opened up, and the flat land was bustling with activity.

People from the north and south bumped into each other on the way.

Enemies are extremely jealous when they meet.

What else is there to say? Let's get started.

The two groups, using the irrigation ditches as a boundary and relying on bushes, earthen slopes, and trucks as cover, were engaged in a fierce battle.

"Brother, should we charge down?" Ratan asked excitedly, panting heavily.

“Let’s see what we are.” Ron turned his head. “Wait, what are you holding in your arms?”

"This?" Ratan tossed the weapon in his hand. "A Bren light machine gun. I didn't even have time to get my fill of it. I'm really looking forward to it."

"Dude, do you think you're a soldier charging into battle?" Ron was completely dumbfounded.

Look at the other side, a battle of hundreds of people, bullets flying everywhere. If you accidentally get hit, what a loss that would be.

“Those toys can’t hurt me at all,” Ratan said dismissively.

Eighty percent of the two groups engaged in the firefight were firing at each other with small handguns.

They might still be using homemade pistols; AKs and submachine guns are in the hands of the ten or so most elite men.

Ratan was very direct; he came right off the bat with the British Bohemian Broadsword, intending to leave no one alive.

"Brother, I've prepared two thousand rounds of ammunition. My accuracy isn't great, but it should be enough." Ratan said confidently.

"No rush, at least let them decide who wins first," Ron said, pulling him back.

If a third party suddenly appears at the scene of the battle, they might be targeted by the other two forces.

The relationship between the Sull family and them is delicate; the Tripati family hasn't completely broken ties yet, and Tiraka is not trustworthy.

The safest approach is for the snipe and the clam to fight each other, while the fisherman reaps the benefits.

Let them fight a little longer; it's good if they can wear down more of their manpower.

The two squatted on the mountaintop, quietly watching the scene of the fight.

Both sides suffered casualties, and corpses lay everywhere in the farmland and ditches.

A rough count suggests there were probably over a hundred, likely the result of submachine guns reaping kills during the initial encounter.

But now, they're all incredibly sleazy.

"Damn it, we've been fighting for ages and hardly anyone's fallen. Are they flirting with each other?" Ratan cursed in frustration.

"Sigh, they're all incompetent fools!" Ron sighed as well.

The initial brutality probably scared both sides, and now they're quite cowardly.

They were all being extremely cautious, locked in a stalemate. It looked like a big fight involving hundreds of people, but in reality, it was just a bunch of noobs pecking at each other.

Many people don't even aim when they fire a gun; they just empty a magazine and that's it.

Take the AK for example. The gunman holds it above his head, hides in cover, and then sprays it randomly from the side.

The bullets all hit the farmland, splashing mud high in the air with a series of splattering sounds, but the actual damage was zero.

Not to mention the homemade pistols; the people who fired them were all gritting their teeth, stretching their arms out as far as they could, and desperately trying to hide their heads behind them.

Fearing their guns would explode, they kept their most valuables away from fire.

After firing a few bullets, he yelled as he reloaded, as if the battle was extremely intense.

At this rate, the outcome might not be decided even by nightfall.

"I'll do it!" Ratan picked up the machine gun and aimed.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!
Heavy, dense, and extremely oppressive muffled sounds came from the trenches between the two sides, as if hit by artillery shells, with mud and water splashing more than ten meters high.

The violent clanging of metal and the hissing sound of bullets tearing through the air sent chills down one's spine.

The sudden turn of events frightened both sides into lying motionless on the ground.

"What's going on?" Ron turned his head.

Ratan was also staring down in disbelief; he hadn't fired a shot at all.

No, it's because they haven't had a chance to fire yet.

The light Bren gun doesn't make that sound, nor does it have that much power.

The two who had realized what was happening immediately lay down and looked around.

“Over there!” Ron pointed.

To the east, another convoy emerged from the dust in a grand procession.

Those were no ordinary convoys; they all had the same standard paint scheme, and heavy machine guns were mounted on the roofs of the vehicles.

Ron and Ratan exchanged a glance, both seeing the seriousness in each other's eyes.

(End of this chapter)