Realizing that resistance was futile before the overwhelming presence of Rostam, Afrasiab saw no choice but to retreat. Abandoning his royal standard and war chest, the monarch of Touran fled swiftly toward the distant realms of Chin and Machin to save his life. Seeing the enemy leader flee, Tahamtan Rostam rallied the Iranian host, calling upon his warriors to put aside their bows and meet the foe face-to-face with mace and blade.
Like ravenous panthers, the Iranians descended upon the leaderless Turanians. The battlefield turned into a dire slaughter; blood washed the earth, and piles of fallen foes choked the paths. Some Turanians begged for mercy, while others fled into the wilderness like a shepherdless flock. Seeing the utter collapse of the enemy, Rostam called a halt to the slaughter, declaring that enough blood had been shed.
He paused to reflect upon the transient nature of the mortal world, reminding his warriors that destiny yields both poison and elixir, turning at times dark as Ahriman and at times radiant as a bride. He urged them to turn away from oppression, to embrace generosity and kindness, and not to bind their hearts to this passing inn. The spoils of war—gold, jewels, steeds, swords, and armor—were meticulously gathered. Rostam sent a grand portion to Shah Kay Khosrow, distributed the rest among his brave soldiers, and sent scouts to hunt for Afrasiab; yet no trace of the fleeing king could be found across land, mountain, or sea.