The other Central Asian nobles next to Abbas II were similarly dead.

Baldeep knelt on the ground, his eyes looking south, already dumbfounded, with fear on his face.

Within a minute, the Indian coalition was suddenly in the abyss of defeat. The numerical superiority of 600,000 against 85,000 was wiped out in the face of weapons that were ahead of countless generations. Bardip's mood is like that of a big ship on a long voyage, about to reach the New World, but suddenly encounters a reef and the ship is wrecked.

It's unacceptable.

Bardeep jerked his head up at Abbas II, hoping that the Persian emperor, known as the virtuous king, would come up with a solution.

However, all he could see when he looked up was Abbas II's blood-red eyes and trembling body.

When Bardeep saw Abbas II, he only felt that the balance of victory had fallen all at once, and the matter had reached a point of no return. He turned his head in a panic to Koplulu, hoping that the wise Ottoman Turkish prime minister would come up with a solution.

However, the situation of Koplulu was just as bad. The telescope in the old man's hand trembled with his hands, his neck stretched out long, and his eyes protruded forward. He stared at the scene on the battlefield to the south, as if he had seen the end of hell, and had completely lost the ability to make decisions.

Bardeep rushed to Koplulu and shouted, "Prime Minister! If you don't think about it, the army in the south will all collapse! ”

After listening to the translator's translation, Koplulu glanced at Baldip, swallowed his saliva, and said, "Find a way, find a way..."

Halfway through his sentence, however, he stopped to himself. Then he bit his lip and looked helplessly at the battlefield in the south, completely unable to come up with a single strategy.

Bardip's mouth widened as he looked at the helpless Koplulu, and then he looked at the anxious and panicked princes of India behind him. These Indian aristocrats looked at each other for a while, and finally they all looked depressed and defeated.

Obviously, even if the princes of India had paid tribute to the Ottomans with all their wealth and submitted to the Persian Empire, they would not be able to save India in the end. In the face of Li Zhi's steel storm, the Austro-Polish and Indian coalition forces, equipped with the most advanced weapons, are like the sick man of Central Asia, unable to resist.

Bardeep suddenly felt so helpless, and two tears flowed down the middle-aged man's face, and he couldn't stop it. He was unable to maintain even his upright upper limbs, and fell to the ground speechless.

It's over, India is over, and Li Zhi's Tiger Ben army will sweep through India. The Central Asian aristocracy, which had ruled India for more than a hundred years, had occupied all the resources of the subcontinent, but now they will lose everything.

On the battlefield, the carnage of the Gatling guns continued.

Although the Austro-Polish and Indian forces had slowed down their charge because of the heavy casualties, the hundreds of thousands of soldiers were still surrounding the phalanx of infantry fighting vehicles. The machine guns of infantry fighting vehicles are more than a meter high from the ground and are prone fire. And on the basically flat steppe, the grass could not provide any shelter for the soldiers on the opposite side.

Gatling's bullets swept towards the Indian coalition's array, sending out splatters of blood.

From Boss Wei's point of view, the Indian coalition forces on the opposite side are like a group of moving targets. These high-nosed and deep-eyed soldiers moved on the ground with their waists bent, and some of them even dared not stand up, but only dared to crawl on the ground. But no matter what posture, it could not change the dense formation of more than 100,000 people of the Indian coalition army, and the machine gun bullets swept past one line after another, and the hit rate was extremely high.

Boss Wei saw more than forty Ottoman soldiers lying on their stomachs in a meadow, their heads bowed and not daring to advance. Their heads were buried low, but there was still a machine gun that noticed these "cowards". I don't know which direction the bullet came from, but the grass covered with Turkish soldiers suddenly splashed red and yellow.

The yellow thing was the dirt under the meadow, which was shot out by a large-caliber bullet, mixed with some broken grass that shot above the meadow like a firework sputter. And the red one is the column of blood on the body of the soldier who was shot. Compared to the yellow soil, the red blood column is splattered higher due to the pressure in the human body.

The machine gun aimed at the grass, and the column of blood on the ground kept splashing, and I don't know how many soldiers were killed by bullets.

The machine gun seemed to be aimed at the cowardly Turkish soldiers, and after more than ten seconds of fighting, they did not remove their guns, and still poured bullets into the grass.

The Turkish soldiers, who were still alive in the meadow, collapsed.

As long as the machine gun fires for another ten seconds, all the soldiers in this meadow will be turned into corpses and rotten flesh. No one would remain indifferent to their mortal fate, and these Turkish soldiers no longer held out on the battlefield, but fled to the rear.

They became deserters, abandoned their weapons and rushed desperately through the gaps of the rear soldiers.

The noble warlords in the back rushed up and shot at the deserters, and the scene began to be a little chaotic.

Gatling fired for a minute and forty seconds, killing and wounding an estimated 30,000 Otto-Polish and Indian soldiers. Even with the 170,000 Indian coalition soldiers to the south, the casualty rate was close to 20%.

In the seventeenth century, no army could afford to lose two percent of the casualties.

As soon as the twenty or so Turkish soldiers who had escaped from the meadow fled, the entire front of the Indian coalition forces to the south began to crumble.

Some soldiers began to follow in the footsteps of the twenty-odd soldiers, fleeing behind.

Even the bravest Central Asian warriors had to give up and continue charging forward as more and more of their comrades were fleeing backwards.

And the fire-breathing Gatling was still spraying bullets at enemies in all directions. In front of the rotating barrel, the tongue of fire gradually made the entire barrel begin to redden. If these 600 machine guns had been fired for another minute and forty seconds, probably all the barrels would have been paralyzed by being too hot and red.

However, it is impossible for the Indian coalition to hold out for another minute and forty seconds.

Boss Wei saw a group of the bravest soldiers rushing to the front, and just as his comrades were retreating on the grass and losing ground, suddenly two machine guns were aimed at this group of enemies. Those tall Central Asian warriors suddenly exploded like fireworks, and blood mist and blood pillars shot out one by one.

The angry brave men did not want to be beaten in vain, and fired muskets in this direction, but their bullets posed no threat to the infantry fighting vehicles. The two machine guns fired for about fifteen seconds, and almost all of the more than fifty of the bravest Central Asian fighters were killed in the grass.

The death of these Central Asian warriors was like a punch to the hearts of the Indian coalition forces.

Even the Overseer team was useless, and the Aobo-Indian coalition troops at the front all chose to flee. It only took five seconds for all the Indian coalition soldiers in the front row to turn around, and none of them continued to charge at the fire-breathing Gatling.