I'm a Master in India

Ron's method was simple: if you're going to bribe, might as well do it big.

He had Sharma take out 1 million rupees as activity funds and directly find the person in charge of the loan bank.

The only purpose was to turn that loan into a bad debt and to withdraw all mortgage contracts and such.

Banks have bad debts every year. Not all loans that are released can be recovered, otherwise there wouldn't be so many deadbeats.

This is called legitimate attrition, and some banks even have attrition quotas internally.

See, doesn't this make sense?

I am the great India, a divine kingdom on earth, who can say anything if the bank has some bad debts? Believe it or not, I'll smear cow dung on your face?

After hearing this, Sharma slapped his belly. He almost forgot this traditional skill.

If America has Smith's commissioner, India can have Rajesh's commissioner too.

"But isn't 1 million rupees a bit too much?" Sharma was a little bit pained.

"Brother, you owe the bank nearly 20 million. Is there a better deal than using 5% of the cost to eliminate this debt?" Ron was a little speechless. This guy was definitely a black-hearted capitalist.

"It's a good idea, but the bank officials from before now hate me a little."

Ron glanced at him askance. You're still a little self-aware. You disappeared on them; it's good enough they didn't directly put you on the wanted list.

"I know some officials who can help you as intermediaries, but it will cost about one hundred thousand in activity expenses."

"Okay! As long as this debt can be settled."

He's already spent a million, so what's another hundred thousand? He doesn't want to be on the wanted list unless absolutely necessary.

At this point, today's negotiations can be considered to have reached a preliminary verbal agreement.

Ron cut the price of the land to 10 million rupees, and then used US dollars as bait to further reduce the price to 7 million rupees.

The black-hearted capitalist Sharma definitely won't get that much in the end. He still has to spend more than a million to bribe the bank.

After carefully calculating, damn it, it doesn't seem to be much more than selling it to the gangsters.

However, Sharma didn't intend to go back on his word, because Ron was trading in US dollars, which were US dollars.

The Indian economy has been open for a year, but the government's foreign exchange reserves have not improved, and the whole country still lacks US dollars too much.

With the matter settled, Ron felt indescribably happy. Finally, he had taken another step in his career.

"Ron, what are you planning to produce in your factory?" Anand asked curiously.

"There are too many textile factories in India; there's no shortage of one more. I want to produce electrical appliances. That's what the Indian people need most."

"Wow! High-tech. Then you'll need a lot of engineers."

"You even know about engineers?" Ron looked at him with new eyes.

"The most ideal profession in the hearts of Indian women is a doctor, and the most ideal profession in the hearts of men is an engineer. Everyone knows this."

"I thought the most ideal profession for Indians was a government official."

"Oh, that's of course number one, but engineer is the first choice after officials."

To put it bluntly, becoming an engineer is already the ceiling for low-caste people. Officials? Those are all the reserved territory of the high castes.

"By the way, Ron, since we're so happy today, let's go have some fun."

"What fun?" Ron looked at him suspiciously. "What tricks are you up to again?"

"Come with me, quick. I guarantee you won't regret it."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"Get in the car!" Anand stepped on the gas and drove Ron towards a nearby alley.

He had already inquired that there was a hotel nearby with exciting programs.

When Ron stepped into the corridor on the second floor of the hotel, he felt something was wrong.

"You're not planning to find a call girl, are you?"

"She's a very beautiful woman," Anand said excitedly. "She's very fat, and fat in the most important, most critical places. Wherever you grab, you can hold it in your hand. You'll be excited and addicted to it!"

"Heavens!" Ron stopped. "Are you serious?"

"You don't like it? It doesn't matter. Once you see her, you'll be hooked."

"No, I'm not in the mood. I know many prettier girls."

"Mood is no problem, Ron Baba. Once you get it going, your bad mood will turn good, very quickly!"

"Don't call me Baba!"

"Please, Ron, we're already here. Just meet her. She's very experienced. Those people told me that she's served hundreds of guests just in this hotel!"

"Yue ~"

"Don't be like that, Ron. If I don't go see her, I won't get my deposit back," Anand pleaded.

"You already paid?"

"Yes, you need to book in advance."

"Why would you have this idea?" Ron stared at him.

"You're surrounded by foreign girls. There are no Indian girls. This is prejudice. I want to broaden your horizons. India also has very charming women. I have to win glory for the country." Anand sighed, raised his hands, and then let them fall to his sides, looking very helpless.

"Okay!" Ron imitated his expression and made a helpless gesture. "Just take a look, so you can keep your deposit."

They walked to the other end of the corridor and stopped outside a certain room. Anand was shaking with excitement, his eyes so wide that it was worrying.

At his prompting, Ron knocked on the door. Almost instantly, the door opened, and a fifty-year-old woman stood at the door.

She was wearing a red and yellow sari and glared at them fiercely. In the room behind her were several men, wearing waistcloths and white hats, sitting on the ground eating potatoes, rice, and roti.

The woman walked out of the room into the corridor, hooked the door shut, and stared at Anand.

Anand was a head shorter than her, not even reaching her shoulder. Facing the woman's fierce gaze, he returned the obedient expression of a school bully's little follower.

"See, Ron?" he whispered, still staring at the woman. "I told you, didn't I?"

Ron's forehead was throbbing. This was an ordinary woman. She had a bulbous nose, a large face, and thin lips that were pursed disdainfully, making her mouth look like a clam with a stick inserted in it.

The powder on her face and neck was as thick as a Little Japanese geisha. The expression on her tight face was like a thug.

"Show him," Anand said in Marathi.

The woman then pulled up her sari, revealing a large circle of fat belly. She pinched a few taels of flesh with her short, thick fingers, raised her eyebrows, and looked at Ron, wanting his praise.

Ron was expressionless, and Anand let out a groan, his eyes wide open.

Seeing this, the woman looked angry. She looked around the corridor, then continued to lift her top a little. Then she grabbed the thing and shook it up and down several times, while constantly blinking, her expression full of malice, contempt, and ridicule.

Anand's eyes widened even more, his mouth wide open, and he began to pant.

Ron was still expressionless, even suppressing something.

The woman was anxious. She shook her head from side to side, throwing her braided black hair in front of her chest. She grabbed her braids with both hands and pinched the bottom of the braids like squeezing toothpaste.

Finally, with the squeezing, a thick layer of coconut oil accumulated on her fingers.

Thump, the coconut oil dripped from the ends of the braids onto the worn-out white carpet.

"You know, Ron," Anand said incoherently, staring dumbfounded at the dripping oil, his expression hungry and almost fearful, "If you really don't want to, I can use the deposit myself."

"Yue ~" Ron couldn't control himself anymore, covered his mouth, and fled.

He ran all the way to the bathroom and dry heaved over the sink for several minutes.

The stench of the streets of Mumbai wasn't this terrifying, was it? Heavens, is this Anand guy a Slaaneshi cultist?

After finally suppressing the churning in his stomach, he looked up, and Anand was already standing at the door, distraught.

Ron raised his watch and looked at it. From the time he came in until now, it had probably only been five minutes.

"Wow! Ron!" he moaned happily, grinning at the ceiling. "I told you, she's an experienced woman."

Ron looked at him, blankly.

"Really!" He was ecstatic, his short legs even beginning to wobble. "She gave me great service. I'm sure she enjoyed it too. Come on, let's have a drink to celebrate!"

"Anand, are you really a Hindu? Haven't you joined some strange cult or salon?"

"Oh, what are you talking about? Of course, I'm loyal to Moloch. Never mind that, let's have a drink. I need to settle down."

Anand dragged Ron downstairs, and as they stepped onto the street, several figures quietly followed.