I'm a Master in India

Chapter 248: Uttar Pradesh-Style Business War

“Brother, do you think that Tilaka is reliable?” Ratan asked on the way back.

“He won't let this opportunity pass. The one killed by the Tripathi Family was his most valued son, who studied in Europe.”

“He wants to use us,” Ratan reminded. “After driving out the Tripathi Family, he will swallow Mirzapur. By then, he will be the biggest gang in the East.”

“Of course I know, but we also want to use him, don't we?” Ron shrugged.

“So, what are you planning to do?”

“Just wait for the show then.” Ron already had an idea in his mind.

“Mysterious. When did running a gang become so complicated? Before, everyone just picked up a gun and went for it.”

“Brother, you need to use your brain when you're in a gang. Acting rashly is easy to be used as a gun, and you die quickly.”

“Alright, alright. From now on, leave the gun work to me. You just use your brain.”

Ratan leaned his head back and started fiddling with his exquisite pistol.

Compared to India's homemade pistols, the thing in his hand was a work of art.

“Oh, right. What do we do before that? We can't just wait, can we? The Tripathi Family's arms factory is very annoying.”

“Then let's make some trouble for them first.”

“How so?”

“I've been asking around a lot lately,” Ron handed him a piece of paper, “mainly about the operating process of the Tripathi Family's arms factory.”

“Gun barrels, bullets, shipping channels...” Ratan flipped through it, not understanding. “Then what?”

“Do you know where their gun barrels come from?”

“Truck parts?” It was written on the paper in Ratan's hand.

“Where are there the most trucks in Mirzapur now?”

Ratan was startled, then slowly started to smile.

Where are there the most trucks? Of course, it's at Sur Cement Factory.

“The parts that can be used to process gun barrels are certain specific parts from trucks. The truck parts replaced at the factory won't flow out at all. I've also swept up all the inventory from auto repair shops near Mirzapur.”

“Wow, that must cost a lot, right?”

“On the contrary,” Ron chuckled lightly, “that junk is worthless. One hundred thousand rupee, and it's all taken care of.”

What the Tripathi arms factory buys are old parts replaced from trucks. How much can junk be worth?

Ron could spend one million rupee to make truck parts near Mirzapur out of stock for a whole year.

The Tripathi Family can, of course, buy from further away, but that means both cost and time will increase significantly.

They can also buy brand new parts, but as the saying goes, costs increase.

A homemade pistol that originally cost one thousand rupee suddenly increased to two thousand rupee. Who would buy it?

Those who use this kind of stuff are poor people. They can't afford higher prices.

“Why are those auto repair shops willing to sell all the parts to you? They should have a cooperative relationship with the Tripathi Family, right?” Ratan asked.

“Do you think the profit from repairing cars is high, or the profit from selling junk is high?”

“Aha, you are their big Master. They wouldn't dare not listen to you.”

“Selling to anyone is still selling. I didn't pay them any less.” Ron spread his hands.

“Sly businessman.” Ratan hated people who used their brains, but his own people were an exception.

“Of course, I didn't take all the goods completely either. I left a little.” Ron gestured with his hand.

“Are those goods problematic?”

“Mhm.” Ron nodded.

“What happens if you use them?”

“Bang!” Ron spread his five fingers. “They will explode.”

“Brother, it's really their misfortune that the Tripathi Family met you.”

Ron shrugged. They deserved this.

As soon as his cement factory started operating, it was repeatedly ordered to stop work. Although he settled it with money, the reputation would inevitably not be good if it spread.

He was a businessman. Since the other party wanted to play a “business war,” Ron would accompany them.

One evening a week later, two people were waiting outside the Tripathi estate.

One of them had a bloody and mangled right hand, while the other motioned him to stay calm.

Soon, car lights shone from a distance, and the two immediately stood properly.

“Karim Bai!” The leading person put his hands together and came to the car window.

“What's going on?” Kalin asked from the back seat of the car.

“He is our man at Parsi Square.” The tall man in the front, Magob, explained.

“Karim Bai, I'm the one who sells guns for you. This person bought a homemade pistol from me, and then—” The person outside the car pointed behind him.

“Big Brother, as soon as I pulled the trigger, it exploded in my hand.” The injured person was full of pain.

“So you scoundrel, you decided to run to my house?” Kalin's tone was unfriendly.

“No! Karim Bai, I didn't want to disturb you either. He insisted on coming.” The gun seller quickly explained.

“Didn't you try it before buying the gun?” Kalin asked. “How much did you pay?”

“One—one thousand five hundred rupee.” The injured person replied.

“Spending that little money, you thought you could buy an AK? This is a homemade pistol.”

The injured person lowered his head and didn't speak.

“Magob, get him another gun.” Kalin tilted his head back.

Soon, another loaded homemade pistol was handed to the injured person's intact left hand.

“Now, fire another shot.” Kalin shook his head.

The injured person trembled. This gun was exactly the same as the one that had exploded before.

“Hurry up.” Kalin stared at him coldly.

“Big Brother, I'm right-handed.” The injured person pleaded.

“That was before. Now you're left-handed. From today onwards, you can only eat and wipe your butt with your left hand.” Kalin said, staring at his bloody and mangled right hand.

“Big Brother...”

“Stop talking nonsense, hurry up.”

This was the King of Mirzapur. No one in town dared to refuse him.

The injured person could only raise the gun and aim at the sky. The gun seller next to him was immediately scared and hid to the side.

“Bang!” Blood splattered.

The person who fired the shot screamed and fell to the ground. Both of his hands were gone.

Kalin's face inside the car looked very bad. He waved outside, “You, come here!”

“Big Brother.” The person responsible for selling guns stepped forward.

“Take him to the hospital.” Kalin stuffed a few rupee bills into his hand.

The person was taken away, and Kalin's car continued to start.

Squish! The severed finger was flattened under the car wheel.

“Magob, the probability of guns backfiring is getting higher recently. We must solve this problem. This is bad for business. Let's go.”

“Yes, Mr..”

The next day, Kalin brought people to the arms factory. There were still many people here, but it seemed a bit quieter than last time.

The sound of hammers hitting was less, one machine tool was also stopped, and many people were sitting on the ground doing nothing.

“Are fewer people buying guns lately?” he asked the production supervisor, Ubi.

“Karim Bai, many customers say the guns are not good and will backfire. They want refunds, so we can only give refunds.”

“Guns used to backfire before too, but it didn't affect business much. And now we are using equipment instead of manual labor. Do you have any explanation?”

“Karim Bai, backfiring is one thing, and the steel needed to make gun barrels has also become difficult to buy recently.” Production supervisor Ubi looked troubled.

“Hmm?” Kalin turned to look at Magob. “Where is Ram? Call him over.”

After bringing his son to visit the arms factory last time, Kalin gradually started letting him be responsible for some matters in the factory.

First, raw material procurement, and later he also has to be responsible for selling guns. He will go through the entire process.

“Dad.” Ram came down from the office upstairs. He had just been smoking weed.

“Are there any abnormalities in the factory recently?”

“No, everything is normal.” Ram sniffed, his tone relaxed.

“Everything is normal?” Kalin's face turned cold. “Almost no one dares to use our guns anymore, and you say everything is normal?”

“Dad, it's only one thousand five hundred rupee. We can't sell them AKs, can we?”

Kalin was so angry he wanted to hit him, but he restrained himself, considering the outsiders present.

“What about the gun barrels? Ubi said the steel from trucks is hard to buy recently?”

“I've sent people to all the auto repair shops near Mirzapur, and they don't have steel suitable for making gun barrels either.” Ram looked innocent.

“What about the few shops that used to have a fixed cooperation with us?”

“No, they said they were bought by someone.”

“Who?” Kalin asked.

“The cement factory in the north. Those people said the trucks in the factory break down easily, so they bought all the usable parts.”

“Sur...” Kalin realized there was something unusual about this.

They were making trouble for the other party, and now their own business encountered this issue. It's hard to say it's a coincidence.

“Karim Bai.” The tall man, Magob, stepped forward, made a gun shape with his hand, and pointed it north.

“Yadav promised us he wouldn't interfere, on the condition that we don't use guns or damage the cement factory.” Kalin shook his head.

His original plan was to use various underhanded methods to force the cement factory to stop work.

As long as the delay was long enough, the Sur family would eventually be unable to bear it and go bankrupt.

The other party invested hundreds of millions of rupee, most of which were bank loans.

Not too long, two months, and the bank would come to collect the debt.

This was the strategy he and Yadav had agreed upon. The bank had also received instructions from Yadav.

Once the Sur Cement Factory was forcibly mortgaged, the Tripathi Family could easily take it into their possession.

As for the engineering order Yadav promised to the cement factory, that was just to stabilize Sur.

The actual start date of the project would likely be delayed until next year. By then, the cement factory would have changed Master long ago, and everything would be just right.

In order to persuade Yadav, Kalin not only voluntarily stated that he would bear the bank loans, but he also transferred some shares of the cement factory to the other party.

Hmph, a ten percent kickback on the project funds?

Sur also underestimated Yadav's appetite too much.

However, it seems now that the other party has sensed something.

“Are the guns we talked about last time ready?” Kalin asked.

“They're ready.” Magob nodded.

“It's best to check them again, pick out the ones that will backfire, and for the insufficient parts—”

“Dad, I'll go buy the steel needed for the gun barrels.” Ram volunteered.

“Where will you buy them?”

“Chang Udali. I know people there. Sur's hand can't reach that far.”

Kalin turned his gaze, and the tall man, Magob, nodded.

“Bring a few more people. The sooner, the better.”

“Don't worry, Dad. I'll go tomorrow.” Ram readily agreed.

Honestly, he really missed a pair of sisters there.

He hadn't been there for a long time. The women in the red-light district were submissive, which made him lose interest.