I'm a Master in India

Chapter 249: Ambush

Chandauli District is located in the easternmost part of Uttar Pradesh, bordering Bhagalpur in Bihar.

The district has a population of over a million people, no industry, and relies entirely on agriculture for development, making it one of the most underdeveloped districts in all of India.

The people here are very poor, poorer than most areas in Uttar Pradesh.

Yet, the people here have developed a habit of smoking opium. Yes, not cannabis, but black opium.

This stuff is more addictive; once you're hooked, you basically can't leave it.

Ram drove the truck along the country roads of Chandauli, where ragged farmers could be seen everywhere on both sides of the road, lying in the grass, puffing away.

Some were so high they were gesticulating wildly, crying and laughing with snot and tears running down their faces.

"Ram Bai, these guys can't live without our opium at all," the young follower Jacob said, leaning against the window and chuckling.

"With the lives they live, they'd go crazy if they didn't get something potent," Ram said, shaking his head proudly.

The Tripathi Family also has business in Chandauli, not firearms, but opium.

The profit from this stuff is even higher than that of homemade pistols, so there's no reason they would let it go.

In the back of the truck Ram was driving, there was a high pile of carpets.

They weren't ordinary carpets; the carpets were just a cover. In the gaps, there were long, flat strips of black chocolate.

On the street, they don't directly say opium, but use black chocolate as a code name.

And honestly, judging by the color, that stuff really does look very similar to black chocolate.

When sold retail, opium is made into round pieces, some as big as flatbread, others as small as coins.

The long strips sewn into the carpets are all for wholesale.

Besides coming to Chandauli to collect truck parts, Ram also took the opportunity to sell a batch of black chocolate.

It's true that it's very poor here, but the poorer a place is, the better the sales of black chocolate.

The farmers lying by the roadside have spent almost all their savings on buying black chocolate.

"Bang!" Suddenly, a gunshot exploded not far away.

Ram and his men were startled, thinking someone was trying to rob them.

After seeing clearly, they realized it was a few people holding guns, walking into a household in the village.

Their swaying steps were as if they were hunting.

One man knelt with his hands clasped together, his face showing a pleading expression.

Bang! The man fell down.

A child ran past, bang! The small figure flew out.

An old woman sat on a chair, her eyes empty.

Plop, a knife was plunged into her chest.

A half-grown boy rushed over shouting from a distance, bang! bang! The sound abruptly stopped, and everything settled.

The women were pulled aside separately, the group took off their clothes, and then took turns stepping forward.

After they finished, they raised their guns, and with a burst of gunfire, there were no standing figures left in that household.

From inside to outside, from young to old, over a dozen people, scattered everywhere.

"Their guns look like they came from our factory?" the young follower Jacob discovered something interesting.

"Yaar, they are our guns, the quality is completely fine," Ram said, shaking his head dismissively.

He didn't understand what his old man Kalin was so nervous about. Look, these guys fired over a dozen shots, and not a single one backfired.

"The bullets are fine too, they're all one-shot kills," another young follower commented.

"Many are original stock from the police, so of course there's no problem."

"But isn't that too many people killed? The police have a death quota each month." They were very clear about these things.

"I heard there's a driver here who killed his Master in the city and escaped. This must be the house, right?"

"Ah, then they certainly deserve to die."

When serving as a servant in India, the first thing is to tell the Master's family which village you are from, where you live, and how many people are in your family.

Only after the Master's family verifies the details will they believe the servant's loyalty.

Why? Look at the dozen or so people who were just killed; that's the reason.

Once a servant defects, the Master's family will mercilessly wipe out their household.

If they don't do this, how can the foundation of their rule be consolidated?

The driver who killed his Master was challenging the entire ruling system of India.

His Master, neighbors, and other villagers, no one would sympathize with them. Even the people of that household themselves would feel that their family was deeply sinful.

In most cases, no inhuman fellow would dare betray his Master.

However, in a cage of a billion people, there will always be one or two exceptions.

This kind of lively household massacre isn't something you get to see often.

"Ram Bai, there seem to be police up ahead," the young follower Jacob suddenly said, pointing into the distance.

"Hmm?" Ram looked up. Ahead on the dirt road, a police motorcycle was stopped.

The policeman was holding a bamboo stick across the middle of the road, signaling Ram and his men to stop.

Ram patted the back wall of the cab without looking back, "Bastards, there are police, get ready."

This is Chandauli, not Mirzapur.

The Tripathi Family's reach doesn't extend this far yet; the local police can definitely stop them.

"What's in the truck?" The policeman wearing sunglasses walked up and knocked on the truck door with his bamboo stick.

"Carpets, Mr.," Ram said, smiling.

"Get out and open it so I can see," the policeman tilted his head.

He was originally here to keep watch. After the household massacre was over, as a policeman, he would take a photo and write a report to finish the matter.

The general content would be that a multi-death incident occurred in a certain village, cause unknown.

Having received benefits from others, the policeman naturally knew how to write the report.

However, there was also an out-of-town truck on the road, which was a pleasant surprise.

Usually, if the other party was sensible, a bribe would be unavoidable.

"Mr., it's just carpets," Ram said, very reluctantly.

"I told you to open it and show me," the policeman pointed at him with the bamboo stick.

"Okay," Ram got out of the truck.

Coming to the back of the truck, the policeman knocked on the back with his bamboo stick, "Open the door!"

The two lackeys in the truck were desperately stuffing the problematic carpets towards the back.

Many policemen would recognize the smell of black chocolate as soon as they smelled it, so they had to hide them.

"Open the door!" the policeman knocked again.

Ram, standing behind him, swallowed, then exchanged a glance with the young follower Jacob. Both of them simultaneously reached for their backsides.

"Why is it taking so long? Open the door!" the policeman knocked more vigorously.

Click, the faint sound of a gun bolt came, and Ram had already raised his gun.

Just as the policeman was about to climb onto the truck, the back of the truck suddenly opened.

Two lackeys were squatting there, panting.

"Why did it take so long to open the door?" the policeman asked.

"We were asleep, Mr.," the lackey replied.

"Why is there so much sweat on your faces?"

"It's too hot in the truck, Mr.,"

The policeman poked the carpet with his bamboo stick, "Why is it so hard?"

"These are old carpets," Ram, who had already put away his gun, walked forward, "Mr., I also recycle used carpets."

He discreetly handed over a few rupees. It's best not to use guns if possible.

With the policeman's posture just now, Ram thought he had received some information.

Casually stuffing the rupees into his pocket, the policeman waved his bamboo stick, "Go!"

Ram and his men got into the truck and quickly started the engine and left.

"Bastards, if you had opened the door even a moment later, that guy would be dead," Ram cursed towards the back.

"Ram Bai, there was a bit more cargo this time, it took some time," the lackey explained.

"Fortunately, he was a normal policeman who accepted bribes. Otherwise, we'd have to turn back now."

Before coming out, Ram had promised his old man that he would complete this matter perfectly.

This was his first time completing the family business independently. If he did well, Kalin would give him more power in the future.

Ram wanted to prove himself; he was a qualified heir, the future King of Mirzapur.

The black chocolate deal went smoothly. The head of Chandauli was named Shabnam, and he had a relationship with Kalin from years ago.

Shabnam originally wanted to invite Ram to his territory and host him well.

But Ram was thinking about a certain pair of sisters in the town to the north, so he didn't stop and continued driving north.

As evening approached, they arrived at the small town. It was bustling with people coming and going.

Ram had been here a few times. He walked straight to the milk tea stall below a certain building.

"How are you, Tribhuvan."

"I'm very well, Mr., long time no see," the stall owner quickly bowed and touched his feet.

"So..." Ram pointed upstairs, "I'm going up?"

"Mr., Mr., won't you have a cup of milk tea?" the stall owner asked tremblingly.

"I'll come down in two hours," Ram shook his head.

His followers around him burst into laughter. One hour per sister, just right.

The stall owner forced a smile and served a brown ceramic cup, "This is freshly made buttermilk, would you like to try some? Ram Bai."

His hands were trembling badly, and the smile on his face also looked a bit stiff.

However, Ram, whose mind was full of women, didn't notice this.

He eagerly waved his hand and stepped onto the stairs, "Give it to Jacob and the others."

Suddenly, a woman wearing a sari and carrying a child stood up from behind the stall owner.

She had a gun in her hand, aimed at Ram.

"Ram Bai!" The young follower Jacob lunged forward.

Bang! The shot aimed at his chest went wide, and Ram was shot in the arm.

Ram's subordinates reacted and pulled out their guns to retaliate.

The woman holding the gun was almost immediately shot dead by the scattered gunfire, and the child beside her also did not escape death.

Bang! Bang! Two lackeys on Ram's side who were retaliating were shot and fell to the ground.

Jacob looked back and saw that there was also a woman shooting with a gun at another stall behind them.

Damn it, they're all women.

To lower Ram and his men's vigilance, this group sent assassins who looked like harmless women.

Ram, who had fallen on the stairs, raised his gun and repeatedly pulled the trigger, quickly taking down the woman behind Jacob.

"Ram Bai, it's an ambush!" Jacob bent down to dodge.

"Bastards! Who is it?!" Ram cried out in pain, unable to even hold the gun in his hand.

"Run! This isn't our territory." Jacob helped Ram up, preparing to go back to the truck.

They had only taken a few steps when two men holding guns appeared across the street.

There's more!

This group of assassins had a double plan; besides women, there were also men.

At the critical moment, Ram pulled Jacob over to shield himself.

Bang! Bang! Blood splattered on Jacob's chest.

Using him as cover, Ram quickly fired back, taking down one of the two men.

"Ra- Ram Bai..." Jacob fell onto the stairs, spitting up large mouthfuls of blood.

Ram didn't even look, fleeing upstairs. His arm was injured, so he could only try to use the terrain to contend with the remaining assassin.

The only remaining assassin chased upstairs without hesitation.

The order he received was to leave no one alive; he could only succeed, not fail.

On the street downstairs, there were corpses everywhere, and the passersby in the small town had long since run away completely.

Suddenly, two more figures stood out.

One tall, one short.

The tall one was around twenty, with a straight build. The short one was eighteen or nineteen, still with a bit of youthfulness.