When Word reached Ghatfar, King of the Hephthalites, that the formidable Khagan of China had amassed an army to strike at his realm, he immediately summoned the full might of his kingdoms. From the ancient cities of Balkh and Shaghnan to the banks of the Amuy, Zam, Suman, Termez, and Visehgard, war horns echoed and royal treasuries were opened to equip a host that swarmed like locusts across mountain and desert. Meanwhile, the Khagan led his vanguard across the Tarak River, his marching banners and polished blades casting a shadow that darkened the very sun. The vast plains of May-o-Morgh and the environs of Bukhara became the staging grounds for this monumental clash. As the two mighty hosts converged, the pressure of their iron ranks sealed even the path of the wind. Swords flashed like lightning and heavy maces crashed with such fury that it seemed the iron itself had gained a voice, interpreted by the swirling air. A pitch-black tempest of dust engulfed the sky, hiding both sun and moon. The inhabitants of Kushan and Sogdia watched with tear-filled eyes, wondering to whom fate and the celestial spheres would grant dominion. For seven unrelenting days, the armies locked in mortal combat; mounds of slain warriors piled high, and the earth ran crimson with blood, until even the soaring eagles were blinded by the choking dust and the sun vanished behind the pall of war.