When night fell, in the brightly lit tent of the Ming army, Ma Dajun, whose face was like frost, sat upright, and in front of him was Singhji, who looked embarrassed.

Singhki's troops attacked for a whole day, let alone enter the inner city of Delhi, and even the outskirts, which had long been bombed into the ground by Ming artillery, were unable to make any decent breakthrough.

In the course of a day, Singhki organized at least three attacks, but all of them were fought without exception, and there was nothing worth mentioning other than throwing thousands of corpses.

"Ben Shuai has fought for so many years, and today is the first time I have seen such an unsightly army."

The merciless rebuke came out of Ma Dajun's mouth, making the already embarrassed Singhji even more hot.

Victory is within reach, and an infinitely bright future is within reach, but nothing can be grasped.

Singhki opened his mouth, intent to say something, but the rebels behaved so badly that he couldn't say anything.

"Alright, you go back to the camp and continue tomorrow."

Frowning, Ma Dajun waved his hand, and Singh Ji smeared oil on the soles of his feet as if he was relieved.

Although Ma Dajun did not have a clear order requiring Singhji to end the war within a few days, the latter still felt great pressure, and he didn't want Ma Dajun or Daming to look down on him, so in the following days, Singh Ji was quite brave enough to organize several decent offensives.

There were not many Indian men in Delhi, and they were clearly outnumbered by Singhki's team, and even if their courage and determination were greater, they were defeated on the sixth day.

The rebels, under Singhki's 'wise' command, finally rushed into the inner city of Delhi with cheers, trampling on the corpses and blood of their compatriots.

The excited Singhki couldn't wait to enter the city of Derry, but before he could advance under the crowd of equally excited Kshatriyas around him, the sound in his ears that was originally full of cheers and joys instantly turned into endless wails and screams.

What Singh Ki saw was the purgatory scene of the rebel army he had worked so hard to build, chopped up by countless elite soldiers.

The Sudanese Guards, who had been hiding for several days, finally arrived at the time of the battle, with plenty of rest and food.

Although in terms of numbers, Mahmud's Guards were even less than half of the Indian rebels, the huge gap in combat effectiveness was more than enough to make up for it.

The battle was one-sided from the start.

"Marshal."

In such a war situation, Singhji had no choice but to hurriedly find Ma Dajun and ask the latter for assistance.

"The fighting power of this group of infidels in Mahmud is too strong, we are not opponents, or in an hour, we will only be driven out again, I ask the army of the Ming Dynasty to participate."

If you enter Delhi at this time, it will be street fighting with the Sultan Guard.

As Mahmud said, the blood of Da Ming Erlang will stain every inch of Delhi.

Ma Dajun looked at Delhi from afar, the corners of his mouth grinned, and the thick smell of blood began to emanate.

"Order, move the artillery array forward two hundred feet, and fire artillery into the city of Delhi!"

When the words fell, Singhji's face instantly turned pale.

"Marshal!"

Now in the city of Delhi, the resistance of the Hindu people is intertwined with the guards, and at this time, the cannon is fired without distinguishing between friend and foe.

Ma Dajun was in no mood to deal with Singhji, because the task of this cannon fodder army had been achieved.

Next.

Life and death have their own destiny!

Singhji's pleas and opposition had no effect, and the hundreds of thousands of Ming troops who had been waiting for their work began to move, and hundreds of artillery arrays that had been stopped for six days moved forward, and then raised their barrels and roared again in the direction of the continuous shouts of killing in Delhi!

This time the cannon fire directly blew up Mahmud, who was waiting in armor in the royal palace in the city, and he roared angrily and jumped to his feet and scolded.

"Crazy! Akito's marshal is a madman! ”

No one dared to believe that Ma Dajun would give such an order.

This is a commander who only has the life of a Ming soldier in his eyes, and in addition, the army of any country is just cannon fodder and victims.

Footsteps began to sound outside the palace, and a captain of the guards rushed in bloodied, his face covered in blood and panic.

"Sultan, we can't bear it."

Where can flesh and blood resist gunpowder shells, and the roar of hundreds of heavy cannons almost razed the entire Delhi to the ground, and in just two quarters of an hour, the casualties of tens of thousands of guards have reached thirty percent, and the rest of the will to fight is also on the verge of collapse.

Mahmud stood still, without any words, and his ears were filled with the deafening sound of explosions.

"I allow you to lead the army and surrender to the Ming Dynasty."

With a 'chok' sound, he pulled out the sword at his waist, and Mahmud crossed his neck and smiled miserably.

After that, there was no more nostalgia, and with a pull of his right hand, he pulled up the blood arrow and sprayed it.

The lifeless body fell backwards.

Since then, dust has returned to dust.

The sultan, who had ascended the throne at a young age and was bent on saving the edifice from collapse, wanted to centralize the governors of the states and restore the glory of the states, retired from the stage of history.

He is too far from Allah and too close to Daming.

The Commander of the Guards was so frightened that he crawled to the front, picked up Mahmud's corpse and began to cry silently, but for a few minutes, the Commander of the Guards stopped his grief, picked up Mahmud's corpse in a distracted manner, walked up the royal steps step by step, and placed the corpse on the throne to fix the sitting position.

Grooming and crowning.

Until everything was done, the satisfied Commander of the Guards did not pay attention to Mahmud's order to surrender before his death, but knelt at Mahmud's feet, took out a short dagger, and stabbed himself in the heart.

The picture of the two monarchs and ministers is frozen at this moment.

No one broke the news of Mahmud's death, and the guards who were throwing them in the streets of the city did not even know that the Sultan, whom they had desperately defended, had been martyred, and they were still strong resistors, or numb waiting for death.

"The order is to stop the artillery, and the army will enter the city!"

Ma Dajun raised his hand, and then looked sideways at the distraught Singhji, and said.

"Ben Shuai does not accept surrender and capture!"

As long as there is no one alive, then no one will know about it.

In the future, dirty water can be poured on Mahmud's head, after all, the Green Cult has been engaged in massacres in this land.

Ma Dajun turned his head to look at Singhji and narrowed his eyes.

"Congratulations, Singhki, Governor!"

Singhji, who came back to his senses, was shocked, and his heart, which was originally sad, suddenly became much clearer.

Finally, it is time to enter Delhi, and to enter Delhi is to represent yourself, to become the Governor of India!

At this time, you can't destroy the relationship with this Ming marshal.

"The people of the gods will not fear death in order to drive out the infidels, and although we have paid a heavy price, these sacrifices will be worth it if we recover Delhi."

(3 more chapters)