I'm a Master in India

Muna was so happy he felt like he could fly. The Boss had given him a task!

Muna wasn't afraid of hard work or suffering; he was only afraid that the Boss wouldn't assign him anything.

If a servant had no work to do, could he still be called a servant?

There was no such logic in this world.

Muna used to long for freedom, but now he found that being a servant wasn't bad at all.

The premise was having a Boss like Mr. Sur; he was the best Boss in the world.

If you didn't believe it, just look at the five hundred rupee in his pocket. He had never heard of a Boss giving a servant so much money.

Oh my god, the Boss actually asked him to convey blessings, wishing his brother a happy marriage!

Muna wished he could prostrate himself and kiss his feet at that moment, but unfortunately, the Boss didn't like that.

See, he was the best Boss in the world; this was another piece of evidence.

Muna also didn't forget his task: inquiring about the King of Mirzapur's news.

Ahem, this was a side task.

What he really needed to do was pay attention to the movements in the surrounding villages, especially those outside Karna Village.

Any rumors or gossip should be reported to the Boss immediately.

Muna was full of confidence; he was familiar with everything around here.

But the most important thing now was his brother's wedding. This time, it was finally their turn to benefit.

His grandmother, Old Rutu, was extremely shrewd. She didn't budge when negotiating the dowry, which made Yadav both angry and anxious.

In the end, their family won a great victory, and the dowry was so generous it made Muna drool.

Five thousand rupee in cash, the bills were brand new, all freshly withdrawn from the bank.

A "Hero" brand bicycle, and a thick gold necklace for his brother Raja.

They struck it rich!

Not only could they easily repay the tea shop Boss's usurious loan, but they also had a considerable amount left over.

Yadav was indeed the largest caste in Uttar Pradesh; it was incredible that they could produce so much dowry.

Muna walked into the house, stepping over a horrifying pile of cow dung, and heard the chattering voices of his aunts from afar.

Some of them were feeding cattle, some were winnowing grain, and some were sitting on the ground, staring at another woman's scalp, carefully searching for traces of lice, and then crushing them one by one with their fingernails.

As they were talking, they suddenly stopped what they were doing. Muna knew it was time for a fight.

Sure enough, the women exchanged a few curses, and then started throwing metal bottles and cans at each other.

Then they pulled each other's hair, but after a while, they would first kiss the back of their own hands, and then touch the other person's cheek to show reconciliation.

This was the daily life of rural women in North India; arguing was their only pleasure.

The men were busy with their own affairs in the distance, ignoring all this.

Normally, when they were away working in the city, the women would argue like this. When they were at home, they still argued like this; there was no difference.

"Muna, come here and help," his brother Raja called him over to carry wine.

His cousin Lina got married a few days ago, and there was still some wine left over from the wedding.

Grandma Old Rutu firmly opposed buying new wine, so the leftover wine from the tables came in handy again.

"Did you see that girl?" Muna secretly asked his brother.

"I glanced at her in the room, not ugly."

"Is she as pretty as the actress in the durga movie we watched last time?"

"Of course not."

"Then do you like her?"

Raja choked for a moment, then smiled and patted Muna, "Grandma said it's your turn next."

Muna rarely blushed; he wasn't really thinking about that, he was purely looking forward to the generous dowry.

"Tomorrow night, our whole family will have a good drink," Raja said with a smile.

"Drinking, that's great," Muna licked his lips.

He got drunk for the first time at his cousin Lina's wedding. It had only been a few days, and he was already faintly missing the smell of alcohol.

Time quickly came to the afternoon of the next day, and almost the entire Karna Village turned out.

The young people in the village found a donkey from somewhere. They had Raja sit on the donkey's back, and then led the donkey in a grand procession towards the neighboring village.

The wedding arranged by Yadav's family was even grander than his cousin Lina's. A black tape recorder played movie theme songs, and people drank and danced all night!

Raja was stumbling around drunk, Muna was also staggering, and his uncles were just as drunk and unable to open their eyes.

But they could still walk; they had to bring the bride back to the village, where there would be another celebration.

In traditional Indian weddings, there was also something similar to a palanquin, and the bride sat on it and was carried by the young people of Karna Village.

Raja sat on the donkey, Muna followed beside him, and a large group of people beat drums and gongs, singing and dancing.

In the distance, there was the honking of car horns, but it was drowned out by the music.

"Ram Bai, there's a wedding procession ahead, the road is blocked," the young man driving the car turned and said.

"Wedding? Someone's getting married in this godforsaken place?"

"Look at those sluts, all wiggling their butts and hips," the little follower said with a lewd smile.

"Ram Bai, give them a taste of their own medicine," another follower instigated.

Ram licked his lips, then tossed his head, "Let's go, guys."

He approached the celebrating crowd with a gloomy expression. Men, women, and children didn't notice his approach.

Ram listened to the noisy drumbeats beside him, put his hands on his hips, and lowered his head.

Suddenly, he swung his hand and joined the ranks of those wiggling their butts and hips.

The style changed too quickly. The two little followers were stunned for a moment before shouting and cheering.

They treated this as a dance hall and indulged in revelry. Ram was a master at it.

His movements were exaggerated and lewd; he specifically circled around the women, thrusting his hips and sticking out his tongue.

Finally, someone noticed him and stepped forward gently, "Brother, don't be so excited."

"Get lost, idiot!" Ram cursed angrily.

"Wait, who are you?" Only then did the person realize that this young man was not from Karna Village.

"Who am I?" Ram, whose mood was disturbed, pulled out a pistol from his waist without a word, "Who do you say I am?"

"Oh my god, don't do this!" The villager in front of him was trembling with fear.

"Hurry up, you bastard, keep dancing," Ram laughed, holding the pistol.

The sound of drums, trumpets, and the radio's singing continued, and the surrounding celebrating crowd didn't notice the interlude here at all.

The person pointed at with the gun, under Ram's stare, could only dance again with a bitter face.

"Haha!" Ram and his little followers laughed wildly.

They held wine bottles in their hands. After each took a large gulp, Ram simply fired a few shots into the air to liven things up.

The villager in front of him was Muna's uncle. After hearing the gunshots, he dared not stop even more. He forced a smile and continued to wiggle his butt and hips.

Bang bang bang, Ram fired a few more shots. He loved the feeling of being arrogant and domineering too much.

Muna in the crowd suddenly shivered. He seemed to have heard gunshots.

He was too familiar with this sound; Crow had fired that shot right in front of him.

The sound of drums and trumpets disappeared, and the crowd gradually quieted down; they all heard the gunshots.

Muna wanted to push through, but suddenly something dripped onto his arm, warm.

He turned his head, his eyes wide. It was blood.

It wasn't just on his arm; it was also on the donkey he was leading. Reddish-brown, covering the donkey's gray fur.

Muna looked up blankly. Raja's right eye was a black mess, and black blood covered half of his face.

Raja swayed, then fell headfirst onto the donkey.

Hee-haw, hee-haw, the donkey brayed twice, then ran off carrying the corpse.

The crowd screamed in terror and dispersed completely in the blink of an eye.

The few little followers looked at each other, their eyes somewhat evasive.

Ram rubbed his forehead with the pistol in frustration. Just as the followers thought they were going to turn back, he suddenly burst into laughter.

"See, no one is blocking the road now."

He still had to go to Chanduali; there was another girl waiting for him to force himself upon.

The car rumbled past the entrance of Vana Village. As it passed the mine, Ram fired two more shots at it.

He was the son of Mirzapur; besides his old man, he was the King here.

Ron was woken up by news from the mine before dawn; someone was injured there.

He lived in Crow's former manor, not far from the mine.

After instructing Anil to hurry there by car, he saw a large crowd gathered there.

Ratan had already arrived; he happened to get up early to go hunting and met a worker who came to report on the way.

"How is it?" Ron hurried over.

"Gunshot wound," Ratan made a gesture.

"Gunshot wound?" Ron was startled; he thought it was a mining accident.

He hadn't heard clearly in his daze just now, which made him extremely nervous.

A mine collapse, that would be big trouble.

"How could there be a gunshot wound?" Ron squatted down to check the worker's condition.

He was shot in the calf. Luckily, it didn't hit the bone.

"Mr., I was standing on the ore pile patrolling at the time, and then my leg felt like it was stabbed, and then I rolled down from there."

The worker cried with a mournful face, moaning. He was completely an innocent victim.

"Don't talk for now, I'll treat your wound." Ron was already skilled at this kind of work.

In India, you always encountered various accidents. Especially the poor, the reasons for their injuries were diverse.

Among them, external injuries were the most common, and it was also Ron's area of expertise.

He even felt that his surgical skills could rival a real expert.

The workers gathered here watched with wide eyes; they had never known that their Boss had this skill.

He was a Brahmin, yet he was willing to treat low-caste people.

Most of the workers here were Shudra, Vaishya were few, and they usually couldn't afford to see a doctor.

Ron's dazzling movements made them hold their breath.

The injured worker didn't have anesthesia and could only bite on a towel, enduring the pain of stitching.

In about half an hour, everything was done.

"My Boss is the famous divine doctor of Mumbai! Mumbai, you know, the Golden Bird!" Anil boasted proudly.

"He's a divine doctor!", "A divine doctor!", the crowd whispered.

"Do you know what my Boss's last name, Sur, means? Sun God!"

"Surya!", "Surya!"

"You can all disperse," Ron waved his hand. If he didn't stop them, these people would come over to touch his feet again.

After comforting the worker and having someone carry him back to rest, Ron and Ratan walked aside.

"What exactly happened?"

"Someone saw a white SUV pass by here, and the gunshots rang out at that time."

"SUV?" Ron frowned. Was someone seeking revenge, or deliberately causing trouble?

"Don't worry, I've sent people to investigate. Anyone who dares to touch my people, I'll put a few holes in their head," Ratan said fiercely.

"Don't be impulsive, you must figure out the other party's background, we..."

Ron had just spoken halfway when he saw Muna and a few people running towards them, carrying a stretcher.