I'm a Master in India

Mirzapur, rather than being described as a city, is more appropriately described as a county or town.

The population of this small town is less than 200,000, several times smaller than Varanasi's million residents.

However, on the vast land of Uttar Pradesh, even a small street with a few hundred people will breed a leader and a violent group surrounding him.

Mirzapur is no exception; the Tripathi family's rule here is deeply rooted. From their ancestors' time, they have managed this small town like an impenetrable iron bucket.

By Karim Bai's generation, the town's police station was no different from his family's servant quarters.

If there was any disturbance in the city, or any sign unfavorable to the Tripathi family appeared, the police would notify Karim Bai immediately.

The gunfight that happened in the small village on the border of Mirzapur some time ago did not cause much of a stir in the town.

Because it was far from the urban area and was a low-caste village, no one cared how many people died.

However, as the Chief of Police, Gupta had to know the general situation of what happened in his jurisdiction.

Most importantly, whoever fired guns in Mirzapur, this had to be reported to Karim Bai.

When Gupta arrived at the Tripathi family's manor, Karim Bai was enjoying afternoon tea.

"You mean that little country landlord from last time was dealt with?"

"Not a single one left, even his family fled in a hurry that day."

"Those Varanasi people?"

"Yes," Gupta replied respectfully.

Karim Bai showed no emotion; he didn't originally care much about who Crow was fighting with.

He was in the arms business; the more fiercely people fought, the better his business was.

As long as the city of Mirzapur was not in chaos, and the foundation of his ruling kingdom was not disturbed, he did not care about what happened in a small country village.

However, Gupta's tip-off made Karim Bai re-examine the matter.

That Crow had bought dozens of guns from him, enough to arm a small gang.

Now, not only were they completely wiped out, but the news didn't even spread much.

Karim Bai was alerted in his heart; it must have been an overwhelming gunfight.

"What's their background?"

"They're in the mining business."

"Mining?" Karim Bai frowned.

"I personally sent people to inquire. Someone was exploring there recently, and it's said to be a limestone mine."

"I know that, of course. That Crow was in that kind of business."

Karim Bai had long been aware of Crow's clandestine cement selling.

He just looked down on it; how much money could a few hundred bags of cement a month bring? It wasn't as much as selling a few double-barreled shotguns.

"No, no, Karim Bai, that's a big business. I heard that many people have arrived in Karna Village now, preparing for mining."

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday."

"Maqbool, bring today's newspaper," Karim Bai turned to the big man beside him and ordered.

Soon, a local Uttar Pradesh newspaper was handed over. Karim Bai quickly flipped through it but didn't find what he was looking for.

Gupta wanted to say something, but Karim Bai raised his hand to interrupt. He got up and went to the living room to pick up the phone.

As the King of Mirzapur, he naturally had close political connections in Lucknow.

"Mr. Rao, have you heard about the mine in Mirzapur?"

"Oh, of course. It was personally approved by the Minister. You'll see the news in the newspaper tonight."

"But this is my territory," Karim Bai's voice was low.

"Karim, that mine is on the border of Mirzapur, and a small part of it belongs to the neighboring Chandauli. It has no conflict with your business, and the other party is not an outsider."

"They touched my people."

"Really? I didn't see any news of a gunfight in the newspaper. Are you mistaken?"

"Rao," Karim Bai's tone became stiff, "If you want to have sufficient funds for the next election, you shouldn't talk to me like this."

"Alright, Karim Bai. The other party is very powerful, both in terms of money and people. It's a large project with an investment of over 100 million rupees. Besides the Minister, no one else can interfere."

Karim Bai silently hung up the phone. He finally understood why no news had spread.

Before the dust settled, their Minister had already secured this business.

"Gupta, tell me everything you know."

"The other party is a Brahmin like you, surname Sur. They originally only operated around Varanasi, but recently a family descendant returned from Mumbai, and then this mining business started."

"How much do you know about that mine?"

"Not clear. Few people go to Karna Village, and the news only came yesterday."

Karim Bai's eyes were dark; an investment of 100 million rupees already said a lot.

"Baba," Ram's voice came from outside, "When did a big businessman come to Mirzapur?"

"Where is the businessman from?" Karim Bai turned and asked.

"A small village, I think it's called Karna. I passed by there yesterday, and there was a construction team working."

Karim Bai and Gupta exchanged glances, both understanding.

"Where did you go yesterday, and why are you only coming back now?" He asked his son.

"I went to a classmate's party in Chandauli. I drank too much last night." Ram felt a bit guilty; he had forced himself on someone last night.

"How many people are at that construction site?" Karim Bai's focus was not on his son.

"Several hundred, maybe over a thousand," Ram shrugged.

"Don't run around everywhere recently. Pay more attention to the family business."

"Yes, Baba," Ram was a bit distracted.

His father was the only one who called the shots in the entire Mirzapur, and he couldn't get involved in the family business. What else could Ram do besides being a rich second generation?

Waving his hand to send his son upstairs, Karim Bai turned back to the policeman in front of him.

"Gupta, keep a close eye on Karna Village."

"Yes, Karim Bai."

Watching Gupta leave, Karim Bai sat in his chair, lost in thought.

He naturally wanted a piece of the mining business, but not now.

The 100 million rupee investment hadn't shown results yet. The time for the Tripathi family to make a move was when the cement plant was on the right track.

Karim Bai was a shrewd businessman; he was only used to picking the fruits, not being the foolish investor.

No business in Mirzapur could bypass him. This concerned the family's reputation; otherwise, how could he keep those continuous challengers in check?

"Do you know the King of Mirzapur?"

"What kind of king?"

"Here," Ron pointed to the ground, "The boss of this territory."

"I've heard of him. He seems to be in smuggling and arms dealing, but it's all low-quality stuff," Ratan fiddled with his beloved pistol.

"Muna told me yesterday that his people appeared in Karna Village."

"What?" Ratan looked up, "Are they planning to target this place?"

"I don't know, but I think it's better to be careful."

"Don't worry, brother. The family has recruited some more people. If they don't come, fine, but if they do, they'll end up like those two beasts. However..."

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Not enough guns," Ratan said with a grin.

Ron had a bit of a headache. His older brother wasn't interested in business or anything else, only in various firearms.

This stuff was a money pit, even an endless one.

"You want to buy guns again?"

"This time, besides AKs, there are also Bren light machine guns," Ratan's eyes lit up.

"Light machine guns?" Ron gasped.

"These are mainstream goods, designed by the British."

All of Ratan's arms were sourced from the India army: AK series, Beretta pistols, military knives...

As long as they were paid, those army officers dared to sell anything. They even dared to embezzle food and replace it with pig feed, so what wouldn't they dare to do?

After doing business several times, Ratan was no longer satisfied with the firepower of small pistols and rifles; he set his sights on the Bren light machine gun, which fired five or six hundred rounds per minute.

It had been in service since the 1930s and 1940s, a complete antique.

But India's military industry was lagging, still relying on international manufacturing to this day.

The Bren light machine gun, which others despised, was India's standard weapon and a dream gun in the eyes of local forces like Ratan's.

"Three thousand dollars each, plus five hundred rounds of ammunition. I managed to get these through connections with great difficulty. There are only three, just waiting for payment."

"How much is this batch of arms in total?" Ron got straight to the point.

"Four million, plus some extra bullets," Ratan gestured.

"I'll have someone get the money in the next couple of days, but we'd better keep a low profile. Having too many guns will make more and more people wary."

"As long as they don't come looking for trouble, I won't go knocking on their door," Ratan said self-righteously.

He believed he was a law-abiding citizen of Uttar Pradesh, never firing the first shot voluntarily.

Those two beasts couldn't blame him either; they had official approval from Uttar Pradesh. It was those two country landlords opposing the government.

"Since you want to expand your team, if there are suitable local people, you can recruit them," Ron advised him.

"They have to pass an assessment first," Ratan was unmoved.

"Assessment?"

"Who knows if that King has spies here? We just arrived, so it's better to be careful."

"You handle it yourself. In short, the mine must be foolproof."

Ron thought about finding some local guides first, which would make things twice as effective. Ratan, on the other hand, trusted people from his hometown more.

His so-called assessment was probably something like a pledge of allegiance.

Speaking of which, the servant Muna was suitable. With him taking the lead, the people of Karna Village were noticeably more cooperative.

This was also related to Ron's "good deeds" during this time. He hadn't killed anyone since coming to Karna Village.

He would get angry, but he wouldn't casually beat or scold his subordinates.

He certainly wouldn't do things like torturing and killing servants like the two beasts.

Villagers worked hard at the construction site, and he paid them the full amount, without arbitrarily deducting wages.

This could already be called a great benefactor in Uttar Pradesh. Do two more rituals, and he would be the Saint Baba.

As for Ratan, well, the villagers were all afraid of him.

He looked intimidating and had a gun in his hand.

Although he didn't kill people, the animals near Karna Village suffered.

The constant gunfire every day made people tremble with fear.

Sometimes, if a villager's pig was accidentally killed, no one dared to go up and argue.

If the Brahmin Lord was in a bad mood and even killed people, that would be truly unfortunate.

Muna was also afraid of Ratan, always taking a detour whenever he encountered him.

Today, unfortunately, he bumped right into him.

"Kid, I heard your family is having a wedding," Ratan asked.

"Yes, Lord, my brother is getting married."

"Ah, there will be wine to drink."

"If the Lord is going, it's naturally a great honor."

"Really?" Ratan looked at him with a smile.

"Absolutely."

"Alright, stop teasing him," Ron waved from a distance.

Ratan laughed heartily and walked away, leaving Muna secretly wiping his sweat.

"Muna, is something wrong?"

"Uh, Master, I came to ask for two days off."

"Go ahead, relax well," Ron pulled out a 500 rupee note from his pocket.

"Master..." Muna almost cried.

"Oh, right, help me inquire about something," Ron suddenly beckoned him over.

The guides still needed to be cultivated.