The Revolt of the Three Feudatories: All-in at the start in Beijing

Chapter 196 Liu Weiqing: Ten thousand troops, so many!

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Amba Singh acted so quickly because he had also received a letter from Aurangzeb, which said exactly the same thing as Raj Sharma, also bestowing upon him the title of king.

But he had already killed that messenger!

To be king, sure!

Because this is the right of the Kshatriyas!

However, it was absolutely impossible for Aurangzeb, who had killed his father and fellow villagers, to join forces with him to besiege the best Indian king in history, unless he died!

Faced with Amba Singh's sudden assassination attempt, Sanjay Menon's legs went weak with fear. He was about to call for his guards when he felt a chill on his neck and obediently shut his mouth.

Amba Singh held a knife to Sanjay Menon's neck while watching the Brahmins.

"My Singh family came to Bengal from the north because we hated the Mughals' disrespect for Hinduism. So whether I am king or not doesn't matter to me; all I want is faith!"

"And you are no longer purely religious believers!"

After that brief conversation, in Amba Singh's eyes, these Brahmins were no longer loyal believers, just like how people in the Central Plains viewed monks who drank alcohol, ate meat, and married.

Faced with Amba Singh's knife, the Brahmins' weak character was exposed, and they all bowed and scraped.

"Whatever you say goes!"

"We now firmly support King Liu Weiqing of India!"

"You did the right thing. You must have faith!"

These Brahmins were roughly equivalent to the gentry class in the Central Plains. They had houses, fields, beautiful wives, and inexhaustible wealth. Why would they want to die?

This trip was driven by selfish motives. Brahmins are divided into different ranks and nobles. They were just ordinary temple priests before, but they wanted to become high priests of a country and control the power of that country.

P.S.: The Kshatriyas were also divided into kings, noble lords, and warriors, with a very large gap in status between them.

In Amba Singh's eyes, it was these very Brahmins who, when faced with the Mughal cavalry's swords, quickly set aside their status and granted the newly established Mughal royal priests a legitimate ruling position.

After all, ordinary people and believers would not be satisfied with the rule of a different race. Even a mentally challenged person knows that there are still some basic principles to follow when ruled by the same race.

Just as Amba Singh was stunned, Sanjay Menon crouched down, dodged the scimitar, and rolled out of the tent, shouting to those around him.

"Quick, quick, save me!"

Sanjay Menon's guards immediately stepped forward with their knives drawn, tightly protecting him in the center.

Seeing that there were people around him, Sanjay Menon instantly felt more confident as he looked at Amba Singh, who was walking out of the main tent.

"We kindly approached you to discuss establishing a kingdom, but we never expected you to be so ruthless!"

Looking at these burly believers, Amba Singh wasn't afraid, but rather felt it was a great pity; they could have become warriors who drove out the Mughals.

He then plunged the knife into the soil, his expression very sincere, and walked step by step to the guard, finally stopping three steps away.

"My name is Amba Singh. My family has been Kshatriyas for generations, protecting Hinduism. Believe me, my status is far more noble than that of the leaders you follow!"

"And just now, Raj Sharma and your leader Sanjay Menon invited me to join forces to attack the Indian king who would rather go hungry himself than give you food to save your lives. Should I agree?"

Ambassinger dares to stand so close and speak to other people's subordinates, which naturally shows his confidence.

In just two or three months, he did not believe that these soldiers could forget their hatred, forget the favors of the Indian king, and wholeheartedly follow Sanjay Menon.

Sure enough, the guards all wore expressions of disbelief. In their eyes, the two leaders from samurai families were actually such people.

The officers who rushed over, in particular, all looked furious. One of them, especially hot-tempered, immediately drew his scimitar and held it to Sanjay Menon's neck.

"Chief, is that so?"

"You're going to lead us to serve our enemy?"

"We are fighting to the death to drive out the Mughals, not to continue being their slaves!"

Sanjay Menon turned ashen-faced. He and Raj Sharma had approached Amba Singh to discuss using him, the Kshatriya king, for their prestigious status.

Because they both knew that someone born into the ordinary samurai class couldn't lead such a large army, and among these generals were many descendants of Kshatriya noble lords.

They can be leaders simply because they are good fighters.

Seeing this, Amba Singh knew that the situation was settled. He drew a curved knife from the waist of a guard beside him and thrust it into Sanjay Menon's face.

"As a Kshatriya, you should uphold your honor!"

"Take your own life!"

Upon hearing the word "suicide," Sanjay Menon drew his scimitar, intending to slit his own throat, but stopped at the last moment.

Then, Shou Jie threw the knife away, knelt down with a thud, quickly crawled to Ambassinger, hugged his leg, and cried incessantly.

"I don't want to die, spare me!"

"I still have seventy or eighty thousand rupees, and a whole estate of grain. It's all yours, all yours!"

"I don't want to die, spare me!"

"I still have seventy or eighty thousand rupees, and a whole estate of grain. It's all yours, all yours!"

His appearance, like that of an ant, drew disdain from the surrounding generals and guards, who all stepped forward to offer their weapons.

Puff puff!

Without saying a word, Amba Singh took the broken blade from the guard and stabbed Sanjay Menon three times in succession at his neck before finally twisting his head off.

"Bury his head and his body!"

Looking at the corpse on the ground, Ambasingh was unwilling to be dishonored. After wiping the blood off his hands, he ordered his guards to take it away.

Then, Amba Singh walked to the center, looked at the generals who were gradually arriving, and clasped his hands in a salute.

"Among you are Kshatriyas, Vaishyas, and Shudras. Those who have come to join the army must have been either plundered by the Mughal cavalry or indirectly forced into exile!"

"Now, are you still willing to continue being ruled by the brutal Mughals and to continue paying taxes to them?"

Amba Singh undoubtedly hit a nerve with everyone, causing them to become completely agitated and raise their hands in protest.

"We don't want to! We don't want to!"

Amba Singh listened with a look of satisfaction.

"There's a battle raging on the front lines. If we go there and follow the King of India to defend the line, we'll live in peace and prosperity!"

"Are you willing to follow?"

"Yes, yes, we're willing!"

These generals had also received food and weapons, so they were naturally willing to follow the Indian king. As for skin color and race, they didn't care much.

They would accept anyone as long as they weren't dark-skinned Dalits becoming the king of India.

After resting for three days in Rajshahi, Amba Singh removed those who were physically unfit from the army and selected some capable fighters from the arriving rebels, thus forming an army of 100,000 to set off for the Danbad defense line.

The crowds along the way were enormous, creating a truly astonishing scene.

Half a month later, Liu Weiqing, who was watching a song and dance performance with Zhang Ying, was stunned when he heard that an army of 100,000 had arrived.

"An army of 100,000? Where did this army of 100,000 come from?!"

"Is raising Gu poison really that powerful?"