I'm a Master in India

Chapter 239: Changing Times

"Muna, do you have any suggestions?" Ron slowed his tone.

"Master, the farmers causing trouble have definitely taken money, but there aren't many of them," Muna explained cautiously.

"Mm, continue," Ron nodded.

"Most of the villagers whose land was expropriated are with us, on the construction site, in the mine. They are our people."

"You mean..."

"Master, you give them work, pay them salaries, and don't take a cut from them. Everyone is grateful to you.

Those lazy bums, they oppose you for a little tip. Everyone curses them, curses them for having no conscience, curses them for being ungrateful, they are all traitors."

"If it were you, what would you plan to do?" Ron's eyes held a smile.

"Let all of Mirzapur know your benevolence. I will organize a parade to sing praises of your virtues and give those grateful villagers a chance to repay your kindness."

"This kid is acting very much like an elector now," Ratan said from the side.

Ron laughed heartily. It was really interesting.

"Muna, you've made a lot of progress."

"It's all stories written in books. Mahatma Gandhi organized many parades when he was young."

"That young adult book?"

"Yes."

"What else have you read these past few months?"

"History, and social encyclopedias."

"If you have time, take a look at India's politics and elections."

"Yes, Master."

"I'll leave this matter to you."

"Yes... huh?" Muna suddenly looked up.

"Just do as you said. Mirzapur doesn't allow two different voices. I will allocate manpower to you."

"Yes! Master!" Muna's clenched fists trembled slightly.

This was a feeling he had never experienced before. His heart was pounding.

"Alright, let's go take a look at the factory first," Ron said, standing up.

The newspaper matter wasn't urgent. He cared more about his cement factory.

The territory that originally belonged to Crow, those few small hills, has now completely changed.

The bumpy, gravel-covered slopes disappeared. They were leveled into solid platforms, extending from the foot of the mountain all the way outside.

Amidst the roaring sound, yellow heavy trucks sped by, kicking up dust. The ore in their loaded beds was piled high, overflowing.

The unloaded ore was automatically transported away by conveyor belts. At the end, a giant jaw crusher opened its iron teeth and swallowed it in large gulps.

Whenever its mouth was full, it would bite down hard, tearing the huge rocks into fist-sized pieces.

These roughly processed crushed stones were then transported away by trucks, directly reaching the cement factory outside via the newly laid asphalt road.

A towering calcining furnace rose from the ground. Standing on it was enough to overlook the lush green forest in the distance.

A large area of industrial land extended outwards at its base: feeding towers, rotary kilns, dust collection workshops, warehouses, transportation pipelines...

At the top of the feeding tower, there was a high observation deck surrounded by steel. The elevator leading up to it was slow and shaky.

Wearing a safety helmet, Ron proudly overlooked the vast project that was nearing completion from a high vantage point.

"When is the first phase production line expected to be completed?" he asked.

"Two months at most. Most of the equipment has started debugging," Gaur, the general manager, replied.

"Are there any difficulties?"

"Electricity. The external power supply is unstable, and our own generator cannot meet the needs of all equipment."

"I remember when it was initially designed, there was a power station reserved here?"

"Yes, it's right there," Gaur said, pointing into the distance.

That was a red and white chimney. The main structure was completely finished, but it was quiet and still at the moment.

"What is needed to get it running?"

"A 5MW generator set."

"Increase the budget?" Ron furrowed his brow.

"For just 1 million dollars, 30 million rupee, it can meet all the needs of both the cement factory and the mine. From a long-term perspective, this can save us 70% on electricity costs."

"Besides the generator set, what else is needed?" Ron was a bit tempted.

"Coal!" Gaur's eyes sparkled.

"I'll handle the coal," Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. This stuff was the least valuable.

There are coal mines in Sonbhadra to the south, less than a two-hour drive from here. It's very close.

Not bad. He was very satisfied with the progress of the project here.

In less than a year, the original farmland had transformed into a nascent industrial center.

Of course, this was only the first phase, purely rushing the progress for the production line to operate.

To complete the construction of all 100 acres of industrial land, it would take at least two years, likely by the end of next year.

"I will try to stay in Uttar Pradesh for two more months until the cement factory has a trial run."

"It will definitely go smoothly. This is just the first line," Gaur said, full of confidence.

Currently, the cement factory's annual designed production capacity is 100,000 tons, which is only considered medium to small scale and not very difficult.

Gaur had worked on similar projects. His idealized goal was 500,000 tons, which would match the mine's reserves.

But that's for later. Take it slow. The first step is the most important.

Ron was very fond of the view from the high tower. From here, he could overlook the entire construction site.

Busy workers moved like ants below. The newly built asphalt road was black and shiny, and two rows of neatly arranged plywood houses stretched out alongside the factory.

Due to the advantage of being close to the water, the workers' living area was even paved with cement.

The small workshops left behind by the two beasts had already been put to use.

The quality of the cement produced was average, so it was simply used for the internal construction of the factory first.

Unfortunately, cement roads are too rigid and not suitable for bumpy slopes. Heavy trucks can easily break them.

After the cement factory is put into operation, Ron plans to build a wide cement road directly from the factory area to Varanasi.

This way, a continuous supply of cement can be quickly sent to Varanasi railway station and then transported to various parts of Uttar Pradesh.

If you want to be rich, build roads first. A golden saying indeed.

After inspecting the construction site, Ron finally prepared to head to Lucknow.

To resolve the recent turmoil, the fastest way was to start directly from the top.

As for the media reports, he could largely ignore them. That's just how wild Uttar Pradesh is.

However, Ron valued his reputation highly, so he decided to tackle it from both ends.

Muna was responsible for shifting public opinion from the ground level, while he would resolve the underlying conflicts of interest.

...

Mirzapur, Tripathi Family.

"Did you do this?" Kalin threw the newspaper onto the table.

"Dad, I didn't fire a shot this time, nor did I use a single bullet. If you don't believe me, ask Makbu."

The tall Makbu standing beside them nodded slightly. The Tripathi family's firearms were all under his management; he had the key to the armory.

"Didn't I tell you not to provoke them now?" Kalin stared at him intently.

"Their factory will start operating soon, no more than two months. Dad, you said, wait until they have everything sorted out, then we make our move."

"Where did you hear this news?" Kalin slightly narrowed his eyes.

"There's a student from our school working there. I found him," Ram said with a smug smile.

In Mirzapur, 'Karim Bai' meant command. No one dared to refuse the Tripathi Family.

Through that student, Ram had gotten a fairly good grasp of the cement factory's progress.

He couldn't hold back and prepared to cause some trouble for the other party, while also proving himself to his father.

The King of Mirzapur cannot always be 'Karim Bai'; it can also be 'Ram Bai'. This small town will eventually belong to him.

"The Varanasi people aren't that easy to provoke. Doing this will only alert the enemy."

"Dad, you're the one who said I was idle all day. Now I just want to do something for the family," Ram said, dissatisfied.

"I'm not saying what you did was wrong, but you were too soft."

"What?" Ram was stunned.

"Why didn't you have someone take a shot from behind? In that situation, the other side would definitely shoot back.

Just kill a few more farmers, preferably the reporter too. That's how you make things big.

This kind of insignificant report will only make the other party feel annoyed, but it won't cause any real damage.

Have you become stupid from reading? When has the Tripathi Family ever been so restrained?"

"Then... then I'll take people there in a couple of days."

"Idiot, it's too late. The Varanasi people are already prepared now," Kalin cursed, disappointed in his son.

This son was good at being arrogant and had a bit of cleverness, but he was too narrow-minded, not mature enough, and not ruthless enough.

"What about the 'Daily News'?" Kalin asked again.

The small newspaper in Mirzapur was understandable, but the 'Daily News' was in Lucknow. The Tripathi Family's reach didn't extend that far.

"I asked Rao's daughter for help," Ram stammered.

"Councilor Rao? Why would his daughter listen to you?" Kalin was startled, then his eyes turned strange.

"I promised to watch a movie with her."

"That's it?"

"That's it," Ram shrugged.

The atmosphere in the living room became increasingly strange. The Lord, who rarely inquired about family affairs, sat in his wheelchair with a smile on his face.

Stepmother Bina also glanced at Ram, her eyes turning, as if about to drip water.

"Don't make things difficult for Councilor Rao. He only has one daughter," Kalin warned him.

"It was just watching a movie; she herself wanted to help me."

"Don't interfere with this matter anymore. The family will handle it."

"Dad..."

Ram was about to speak when Gupta from the police station suddenly arrived.

Kalin beckoned, signaling the other party to come forward.

"Karim Bai, there's some activity outside," Gupta said, putting his palms together and showing a fawning smile.

"What activity?"

"There's a parade."

"Huh?"

"The Varanasi people, they are outside."

Kalin remained silent. Just as the few people in the living room exchanged glances, he suddenly stood up first and walked outside.

The Tripathi Family's estate was in the best location in the town of Mirzapur.

It was a high ground. Stepping out, one could overlook the town's central square.

The plaster statues of Kalin and Ram's grandfather were placed there. They were symbols of the Tripathi Family's rule over Mirzapur.

At this moment, a vast crowd gathered in the square. They waved flags and chanted slogans.

"The Great Mr. Sur gives us work!", "Roads, tap water, praise Mr. Sur!"...

The leading young man wore a yellow headscarf and stood on a truck like a fighter, raising his fist and shouting.

Behind him was a portrait, a portrait of Ron Sur. Everyone could see that gentle smile.

There were also people distributing flyers in the moving convoy. The content was minimal, just one sentence.

300 rupee a month, this is the gift of the great Mr. Sur!

There are too many illiterates in Uttar Pradesh. You have to write '300 rupee' big. This is more effective than anything.

The crowd in the square gradually stirred. 300 rupee? That's too much!

They barely needed slogans to encourage them; people voluntarily joined the ranks. They couldn't wait; they wanted to go to the cement factory in the north right now.

Kalin watched as the crowd followed the parade and left. The town square visibly became deserted.

Two plaster statues, left unattended.