I'm a Master in India

"I say, is it really necessary to be so exaggerated? We're going for initial exploration, not war."

"Ron, you don't understand. In Uttar Pradesh, you have to rely on the guys you have in your hand to speak, otherwise those people won't respect you."

Click, Ratan pulled the bolt, and after hearing the crisp sound of the spring mechanism, he threw the submachine gun in his hand to the subordinate next to him with satisfaction.

The Sul family's private armed forces have completed a thorough refitting.

The previous homemade revolvers, Nepalese kukris, shotguns... were all replaced with modern standard weapons.

From the famous AK to the small and flexible submachine gun, and then to the Glock pistol, the standard equipment of Indian police officers, they are all high-grade goods.

There are dozens of people in total, and now the guns have been replaced by cannons, and everyone has a guy in their hand.

Of course, to purchase this batch of firearms, money is indispensable, about 8 million rupees.

The Sul family couldn't afford so much cash, so Ron himself covered most of the expenses.

He is never stingy when it comes to security. The family's armed forces are his backing.

In the gifted and talented Uttar Pradesh, Ron was not naive enough to bring the business model from Mumbai here.

Adapting to local conditions and customs is the correct way to open up.

However, seeing a truck full of armed subordinates, Ron still couldn't hold back.

Yes, this time going to Mirzapur is no longer a van. No, the van is also included, but it is no longer the main force.

Ratan didn't know where he got two large trucks, and each truck was filled with dozens of people in the back.

With this formation, those who didn't know would think that some anti-government armed forces were preparing to launch a riot.

It's too hardcore!

"Just wait and see, Ron, those two guys will be scared to death!"

Ratan waved his hand, the trucks rumbled and started, and the livestock behind them were shouting and screaming excitedly.

These family retainers, they don't know fear at all, or rather, they are already used to it.

Mixing in Uttar Pradesh is itself living on the edge of a knife.

Gang forces are rampant here, and the number of murder cases is the highest in all of India. Killing and being killed are very common.

The distorted and pathological living environment makes the people at the bottom madly worship violence.

For them, if they don't fight after replacing their guns with cannons, it's not enough to vent their inner excitement.

Ron rubbed his forehead and got into the car helplessly. He didn't go with Ratan, but sat in the sedan at the very back.

In the front row were Anil and another personal bodyguard, and on the side of the back row sat the exploration expert invited from Lucknow.

According to Ratan, when it comes to fighting, he is more professional than Ron.

Well, I hope those two beasts are sensible.

The mighty convoy drove south, and the sky over Mirzapur was covered with dark clouds.

Boom, the crow was startled by the sudden thunder, but quickly sat up straight again.

"Kaleen Bhai, I urgently need this batch of goods, you must help me."

"What you want is not a small amount. So many guns, who are you preparing to deal with?" The figure in the main seat had a low voice.

Kaleen Tripathi, the underground king of Mirzapur, known as Kaleen Bhai.

All the gray businesses in the city are under his jurisdiction, including firearms, cannabis, usury, killer services... nothing is excluded.

As long as his name is mentioned, everyone is terrified and dare not disobey in the slightest.

Legend has it that anyone who comes to Mirzapur to do business must first come here to pay respects. Without his permission, they are not allowed to "shoot" without authorization.

Crow is just a small landlord in the countryside. In front of the famous Kaleen Bhai, he kept his posture extremely low.

"Kaleen Bhai, the people from Varanasi are coming to snatch my territory. That place has belonged to the Kasa family for generations, so I can only fight back."

"Varanasi? What are they doing here?"

"I don't know either, they have guns and are coming fiercely."

Crow didn't tell the truth, he was afraid that the limestone mine would attract Kaleen Bhai's covetousness.

For so many years, Crow has been doing this business privately, making a fortune in silence.

In addition, according to the rules of the underworld, as long as he doesn't ask for help, Kaleen Bhai won't find an excuse to intervene in his business.

The underworld has its own order, and Kaleen Bhai, who sits on the throne, even has to personally maintain the operation of this order.

"There is not much stock in the factory. If you want to pick up the goods now, you have to pay extra."

"If I want it now, the price..." Crow said cautiously.

"300,000 rupees, I'll have someone take you to the warehouse."

"Okay!" Crow gritted his teeth and agreed.

This is almost half of his family fortune. He is a small landlord in the countryside and doesn't have much surplus grain.

Kaleen Bhai tilted his head, motioning for the big guy next to him to take Crow to get the goods.

To cover up his arms business, Kaleen Bhai specially opened a small copper factory.

Making copper is fake, but making firearms is real.

Yes, Kaleen Bhai's firearms are not imported from other places, they are all handcrafted by himself.

Bullets have low added value, and most of them are cheap goods obtained from the army.

When Crow followed the tall man to the warehouse, the workers outside were hammering a red-hot gun barrel.

There is no lathe, no die-casting machine, only hammers, purely handmade.

"Are these guns okay?" he asked.

"For a gun that costs a few thousand rupees, what do you expect to buy, an AK?"

The tall man's words choked Crow into silence. The arms business also follows the principle of getting what you pay for.

If you want to buy beautiful imported guns, sure, keep adding money. AK, a star in the arms industry, will not be less than 80,000 rupees.

Crow is certainly not that extravagant. He needs a large quantity and also wants consumables like bullets.

Revolvers, double-barreled shotguns, long-barreled rifles... 300,000 rupees is already very tight, so he can only choose cheap local goods.

But seeing the rough gun barrel, Crow still felt a pain in his teeth.

He didn't know if this thing was reliable, but the muzzle was terrifyingly thick.

Waving his hand for the people below to move the goods, Crow paid the money happily.

He is greedy by nature, but he is not stupid. Keeping what he has in his hand is the most important thing. Money and wealth can be earned later.

Outside, Honey Badger was driving a truck waiting for him. They also had a truck full of people and could be armed immediately after getting the guns.

Boom, another muffled thunder.

Munna looked at the sky with curiosity. The rainy season had just passed, so why was it going to rain again?

"You little bastard are slacking off again!" The tea stall owner chased after him with a large ladle.

"I didn't, it's going to rain, I came out to move the stove in!"

"Lying! The rainy season is long gone. You are just like your father, you can't change your ways, always thinking about escaping the village. In the end, you'll end up with a rotten life!"

Munna ran panting, the angry roar of the tea stall owner coming from his ears.

There were many people in the small square in front of the tea stall, including cart drivers and idle teenagers. They were all laughing at Munna.

Munna was once one of those teenagers. They waited here for only one thing, to leave.

Whenever they saw a truck passing through the square, the teenagers would run towards it, reaching out and shouting, "Take me! Take me!"

After some pushing and shoving, six or seven people would squeeze onto the truck, and the rest would wait for another truck in the same spot.

A few of the guys who left went to work as construction workers or excavators. They were all lucky guys who could escape this primitive village.

So every two hours of waiting, another truck would come, followed by another scramble and push.

Munna was once very fortunate to squeeze to the front. The driver at that time was a Sikh, wearing a blue turban on his head.

He held a wooden stick in his hand, waving it to direct the crowd to retreat.

"Listen up!" he roared, "Take off your shirts! If you want to find work, I have to see if your bodies are qualified first!"

The driver checked Munna's chest, slapped his butt, stared into his eyes, and then hit his thigh hard with the stick, "Too thin! Get the hell out of here!"

"Give me a chance, sir! I may be thin, but I have strength! I can dig, I can carry cement, and I can..." Munna begged.

The driver raised the stick and hit Munna's left ear. He squatted down holding his ear, and the people behind immediately rushed over and took his place.

Munna sat on the ground, rubbing his ear, watching the truck speed away, kicking up a large cloud of dust.

He cried loudly, he wanted to leave here, even if it meant being covered in injuries like his father.

Yes, his father's body, Munna still remembers it.

His body was covered in scars, from his chest down to his waist, then to his hips and arms. Everywhere he touched, there were large and small wounds and scars, like marks carved by the whip of time on his body.

Reality had written a history of the poor on his father's body, with a pen as sharp as a knife, cutting three inches deep into the flesh.

Munna was not afraid of becoming like his father, as long as he could leave here.

He knew that with those two beasts around, the people in the village would never have a chance to rise.

Honey Badger and Crow didn't treat them as human beings, they were servants, slaves, to be taken and given as they pleased.

If a fisherman couldn't pay the protection money, they would get the fisherman's daughter pregnant.

Munna's cousin couldn't save enough dowry and wanted to borrow from usurers. Instead, she was forcibly kept by Crow and then got pregnant.

Although the child was aborted, it was difficult for his cousin to find a good husband again.

A widower who had lost his wife was willing to agree, on the condition that a large dowry be prepared.

Difficult! Life in Kanna village would sooner or later drive Munna crazy.

He hated the two beasts, all the suffering was created by them.

Beep beep, there was a horn sound.

Is it the bus from town?

Actually, Munna didn't necessarily have to leave the village, as long as he lived like a human being.

What does it mean to live like a human being? For Munna, perhaps it was like Vijaya, the bus conductor.

The bus would stop in front of the tea stall for half an hour, and after the passengers got off, the conductor Vijaya would also get off to have a cup of tea.

He was the object of admiration for all the people working at the tea stall here. He wore the khaki uniform issued by the company, and a silver whistle was tied to his pocket with a red string, looking very proud.

Everything about him told people that he had made a name for himself.

Vijaya's home was also in the village, like a pigsty, truly at the bottom.

But he is successful now. Somehow, he got involved with an official.

It is said that he exchanged his body, and then everything went smoothly.

Being a conductor is a good job. He holds a beautiful silver whistle in his hand, and when the bus starts, he blows the whistle.

At this time, the children in the village would chase the bus like crazy, running and slapping the car body, shouting for him to take them too.

Munna longed to be like Vijaya, wearing a uniform, having a fixed salary, with a shiny whistle hanging around his neck, making a whooshing sound when blown.

Then everyone would look at him as if to say, "Look, what an important person!"

This is Munna's dream, to live like a human being.

Beep beep! A few more horns sounded.

Huh? It's not the bus from town, there are several cars.

Munna turned his head, then slowly opened his mouth wide.

The tea stall owner, tired from running, leaned on his knees and laughed at him, but soon he couldn't laugh either.