As the host of Rum broke in utter ruin, Prince Salm fled in desperate haste toward the coastal fortresses, hoping to find ships to carry him away from the vengeance of Iran. Yet the shore was barren and no vessels rode the waves. The plain was so choked with the fallen that horses stumbled amidst the carnage. Prince Manuchehr, his heart ablaze with the memory of Iraj, urged his swift steed forward, dismounting his heavy armor to gain blinding speed. Closing in upon the fleeing King of Rum, Manuchehr cried out in thunderous wrath: 'O wretched tyrant! You slew your own brother for the sake of a crown! Behold, I bring you the kingdom you so desired! Do not flee from the seat Fereydun has newly prepared for you—the tree you planted has borne its fruit, be it thorns or fine silk!'
Before the words had faded, Manuchehr struck with his brilliant blade, cleaving the King of Rum in twain. Salm's severed head was raised high upon a spear, striking awe and terror into all who beheld it. Left leaderless, the army of Rum scattered like a shepherdless flock swept by a winter blizzard, hiding among the mountains, seas, and wastes. A wise and eloquent elder of their ranks was chosen to approach Manuchehr. Bowing low, he pleaded: 'We are but humble herders and tillers of the soil, dragged into this dark war by force, not by our own desire. We yield our lives and spirits to your command. If the King seeks further blood, we have no power to resist; our innocent heads lie before your judgment.'
Manuchehr, guided by wisdom and divine grace, replied: 'My own desire I cast into the dust, seeking only the name of righteousness. Whatever strays from the Divine path belongs to Ahriman, and from such evil I turn my face. Now that the Almighty has granted us victory, the guilty are sundered from the innocent. This is the day of Justice; no more innocent blood shall stain the earth.' He proclaimed amnesty throughout the camp, commanding all vanquished warriors to lay down their weapons and return to their lands in peace. He then dispatched the seasoned hero Shiruy to claim the fortress and treasures of Salm, lading the vast wealth onto war elephants bound for the royal court.
With bronze drums sounding and colorful banners of violet, gold, and crimson fluttering in the wind, Manuchehr marched his triumphant army back from the coast toward Tamisheh. Old King Fereydun rode out to welcome his victorious grandson. The warriors of Gilan, adorned with golden collars and dark helmets, lined the way alongside Iran's fiercest champions and battle elephants. Seeing his grand-sire, Manuchehr dismounted, kissing the earth in homage. Fereydun embraced him, wiping the dust from his face, and lifted his eyes to heaven in tearful prayer, praising Yazdan for delivering justice to the oppressed and fulfilling the sacred blood-revenge.
Fereydun placed the Kayanid crown upon Manuchehr's head and bade him distribute the captured spoils among the army. But with vengeance complete, the leaves of Fereydun's royal life began to wither. The ancient monarch withdrew from the throne, placing the severed heads of his three sons—Iraj, Tur, and Salm—before him. For remaining years he sat in solitary grief, weeping bitterly over the tragedies of his house until his spirit departed the mortal realm. Manuchehr clad himself in dark mourning, bound a crimson girdle around his waist, and constructed a splendid tomb of lapis lazuli, red gold, and ivory. Hanging the royal crown above Fereydun's ivory couch, he sealed the sepulcher of the great Pishdadian king, reflecting upon the fleeting vanity of the world.