As half the bright day slipped away, hatred burned hot within the hearts of the wicked princes. Tur and Salm abandoned all futile counsel and forged a sinister plot: when darkness fell, they would launch a devastating midnight raid, drenching the entire plain and desert in blood. Yet, the sharp-eyed scouts of Manuchehr discovered the conspiracy and galloped swiftly to warn their sovereign. Receiving the news, the wise Manuchehr immediately devised a tactical masterstroke. He entrusted the primary army to the renowned general Qaran, while he himself led thirty thousand elite blade-wielding champions into a perfectly positioned ambush.
When night cast its shadows over the realm, Tur advanced under cover of darkness with a hundred thousand warriors, arrows notched and bows drawn for a surprise slaughter. But upon reaching the camp, he found to his horror that the Iranian host stood fully prepared in battle formation, their radiant banners gleaming high. Realizing there was no retreat, Tur let out a war cry, and a ferocious clash erupted. Dust rolled off the galloping hooves like a storm cloud, while steel blades flashed like lightning, igniting the night air until the very ground seemed to burn under the dazzling glare of weapons.
Amidst the deafening roar of iron and the thunder of combat, King Manuchehr burst forth from the ambush, cutting off Tur's retreat from both sides. Terrified, Tur turned his reins and fled, but Manuchehr pursued him like a vengeance-driven dragon. Reaching Tur, Manuchehr plunged a heavy spear into his back, knocking the dagger from his grasp. With supernatural force, the young king plucked Tur off his saddle like the wind, slammed him to the earth, and severed the murderer's head from his neck—leaving his corpse as a feast for the wild beasts of the wilderness. victorious and exalted, Manuchehr returned to his triumphing host.