Since ancient times, the tribe has always regarded the strong as the strong, and the people are tough and lazy. In history, Indian rulers, whether Aryans, Arabs, or Mongols, also have a suppressive attitude towards these "alien" on Indian land. After all, everyone hopes that all the people under their rule are good people. When they encounter these "unwrong people" who make trouble all day long, they will naturally suppress them. Therefore, India's history is the history of conquests of countless alien races, while the Sikhs' history is a history of constant struggle against alien rulers. For thousands of years, the Sikhs have fought against one ruler after another with their strong stubborn genes, and their hatred has surged. It can be said that any nation in India has been or is an irreconcilable enemy of the Sikhs.

There are many ways to deal with enemies. At this moment, hundreds of Sikh soldiers have identified and controlled thousands of prisoners, with a happy smile on their lips, rubbing their palms or waving their whips, and looking at the fearful prisoners with malicious intentions.

"Governor, here are the Marathi people. They are the culprits and tyrants who attack us, and are the most vicious thugs." The prisoners were identified as three large circles and surrounded them. The Sikh officers smiled and pointed at a small circle with a small number of people.

"Marati?" Zhang Youde curled his lips. According to the intelligence on Xinqiongzhou Island, the attack of the barbarians caused the Han people who had no time to escape back to Xincheng Capital to be killed. Zhang Youde asked without hesitation: "What are the methods to deal with these people here?"

"Hang them." Sikh NCO replied firmly: "These people are of the same clan as King Xunke who started the war. They always try to oppress us fearless warriors." When the NCO spoke of the fearless warriors, he unconsciously held his chest up.

"It's so troublesome, I am a happy method." A killing intention flashed in Zhang Youde's eyes. The captain of the guard behind him naturally understood the instructions of the governor. He immediately shouted, and hundreds of personal soldiers rushed towards the small circle. Then a hundred prisoners were dragged aside and ordered them to kneel in a row.

"Bang bang bang bang bang..." The gunshots rang out. Before the Marati prisoners understood what was going on, they all lay in pools of blood. The execution place was not far from the prisoners in other circles, and immediately attracted the commotion of other prisoners. Many people tried to struggle and escape, but were soon driven back by the guards Ming soldiers.

"Who are these?" Zhang Youde's expression remained unchanged and pointed to the circle with the largest number of people. Although there were only three circles, the sizes were very different. The Marati prisoners were among the few officers, with only one hundred people, and there were obviously a lot more people in this circle, with as many as three or four thousand.

"They are native Indians, some are Marathi dogs, no, they are even more hateful than lackeys." The Sikhs gritted their teeth when talking about the native Indians, and they obviously hated them more than the Marathis. After all, the Sikhs are a nation that respects the strong. Although they hate the Marathis, they would rather use their weapons to fight against them. The Sikhs naturally looked down on these thousand-year-old slaves who have been accomplices of tigers. In addition, after the alien ruled India, since the alien population was not large, most of the recruited troops were still the natives of India. The real fight against the Sikhs was naturally these lackeys.

Zhang Youde looked at the 'poor' Indo-native people' eyes full of fear, and they shrank into a ball on the ground, all of them looked weak, and couldn't help but laugh: "Save these people, let's keep them, and then they will be slaves of the Ming Dynasty. Many Han people have hundreds of acres of fertile land here, but because the price of hiring people is too high, it's better to sell them to farm."

The Sikh official wanted to persuade him a few words, but finally closed his mouth. Then he pointed to the third gang and said, "Sir, those are pitiful people. They should be the soldiers arrested by the Marati people. They include both Telugu people, Bengali people, Maratite people, Tamil people, Gujarati people, Kannada people, Malayalam people, Olyya people, and Punjabi people."

Zhang Youde was already impatient. What happened to him? He waved his hand in a mess: "Should you take care of everything first. Then he would sell it to local Han people at that time."

"Good land, sir." Sikh officer straightened his body.

"The army is about to go deep into the hinterland. You and your tribe members have fun for a while. Don't go too far." Zhang Youde winked at the Sikhs' officers and then took their personal soldiers away.

The Sikh non-commissioned officer could naturally understand the meaning of the Governor. He immediately smiled happily, rubbed his hands, and began to call his fellow tribes over.

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"What? My Pandit, my proudest son, your elephant cavalry was defeated by those yellow skinned

"King Xunke stomped his feet in the tent, and several women wearing sari went out, and even the golden cup on the table was thrown to the ground, and the jasper-like wine was scattered on the carpet, emitting a strong aroma of wine.

“Yes, Father.

"Pandit kept the bowing chest with a look of disgrace, without giving too much explanation.

"My elephant cavalry has been reduced by more than half, and only more than 600 war elephants are left?" King Xunke's eyes were like a cold knife. This is his lifeblood. You know, cultivating a war elephant not only requires a lot of food, but also special service personnel and training personnel. These are all piled up with gold. Most of his property is used to cultivate these war elephant cavalry, and this elephant cavalry is also his pride and his lifeblood. Now, his bravest son told him that his elephant cavalry is over, and he lost nine hundred heads and nine hundred heads in a short battle. These have been taken care of since birth and are specially equipped to raise them. Each war elephant costs several times more than the gold coins spent by a Marathi. Now it's over.

"You..." King Xunke pointed at Pandit and couldn't speak. If it were someone else, this person would have been executed long ago. After all, this person was his son. What could he do?

"Father, we should retreat. It's still time to do so. The Han people are so scary."

Pandit suddenly said something, which made King Xunke even more angry. He kept blowing his beautiful beard, clenched his fists and smashed the wine case hard, and sneered: "What? My bravest son, are you scared by the Han people? Haha, it's ridiculous. Just this morning, before you went to war, weren't you still confident?"

"Father..." Pandy wanted to speak but stopped, but when he saw King Xunke's ugly face, he couldn't help but shut up.

There were a few people standing on the side of the tent. At the front was a boy, and behind him, several officials wearing huge earrings. The boy's face was heavy, but a hint of joy flashed in his eyes inadvertently. He was also a prince, but because he was usually weak and had not been valued by King Xunke. Now it seems that the opportunity has come.

The prince stood up inadvertently, bowed to Xunke, and said with a heavy face: "This land was built on the wisdom of the father and the blood and sweat of the soldiers. We have 300,000 powerful soldiers. If we give up this land like this, we will not only lose the wisdom of the father, but also disrespect to Shiva."

The prince turned around and asked at Pandit mockingly: "Dear brother, wouldn't Shiva want her people to win? If we withdraw our territory, wouldn't it be blasphemy of God's will?"

Pandit glared at the weak brother, who had always been gentle, and then turned his eyes to his father. The one who really held the decision was his father.

"Father, I am willing to take the warriors to fight the Han people in a decisive battle. The land conquered must not be handed over to others." The prince asked for a fight with a stern face. This was an excellent opportunity. If he could defeat these Han people, it proved that he was not inferior to his brother, and the father's preference would naturally turn to him.

"My Ramashjam, you are too thin, but I understand your intentions. You are a brave child." King Xunke shook his head and was still happy about his youngest son's request for battle. The eldest son had broken his heart, and the youngest son showed his brave side at this most appropriate time. But King Xunke understood that this young son was really not a war material. Even Pandit, who had always had extraordinary force, failed, and he was unwilling to let his youngest son take risks.

"Father, please believe your son. I am not lacking in courage. Although I am not brave, I am willing to use my life to defend my father and his territory." Prince Ramashjam became serious. He was not a joke. There was only one heir to the throne, and he had to fight for it.

King Xunke hesitated. If he really retreated, he would be unwilling to accept it. Moreover, such behavior would be ridiculous. There was no capable person to send out at the moment. He hesitated for a moment and finally made a decision: "Ramashijam, are you sure you can really win? I can lose a strong army, but I am unwilling to lose my dearest son."

Ramashjam pointed solemnly.

"Well, from now on, I will give you a cavalry and a brave infantry, and Pandit's elephant cavalry is also handed over to you. Son, go and create Rongxun for the family." King Sunk approached Ramashjam and patted his arm. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Well, some people object that India's hierarchy needs to be changed.
Chapter completed!