Having listened with attentive mind, the sage who dwelt upon the slopes of Himatunga received the words spoken before him. “Thus have I told you, O brahmin,” the sage said, “but now listen further to another auspicious tale.” There was a splendid city named Netrapāla, its streets and palaces adorned with metals of every kind, shining with prosperity. In this city ruled King Bauddhasiṃha, a mighty monarch who commanded the loyalty of seven hundred thousand warriors. His strength was renowned, and it was under his command that a terrible battle erupted—seven days and nights of unrelenting conflict, so fierce as to strike terror into every heart. In the course of this great war, Bauddhasiṃha’s army struck down their foes, even as the enemy ranks were shielded by Bauddhasiṃha’s own protection. The Buddhists, masters of illusion and deeply honored by the people, stood at the heart of the conflict. At Netrapāla’s command, all the Kṛṣṇāṃśas and their allies gathered together for battle. Among them was Indula, fierce upon his horse, and Maṇḍalīka, who rode majestically atop an elephant. Tālana arrived as well, seated upon a lioness, and Lallasiṃha, a powerful hero descended from the noble Kuntibhoja line, joined the assembly. Nettrasiṃha, too, appeared, surrounded by his own vast force of seven hundred thousand warriors. But the tide of battle turned. Fear seized the Buddhists, and in their panic, they abandoned the land, fleeing in all directions. Eventually, they regrouped and made their way to Hūhānada. There, they were joined by a hundred thousand men from the land of Śyāma and an equal number of skilled reciters. Kṛṣṇāṃśa arrived with a hundred thousand soldiers, and Deva, too, was accompanied by a force of the same size. Maṇḍalīka and Indula brought another hundred thousand, and Jananāyaka stood ready with his own hundred thousand warriors. At Hūhānada, a dreadful battle broke out between the Buddhists and the Āryakas. The carnage was immense: seven hundred thousand Buddhists fell, and two hundred thousand from the land of the Āryas perished as well. In the midst of this chaos, by the power of mechanical devices, a wooden army was conjured—one hundred thousand horse-mounted wooden figures, eager for the fray, a thousand mounted on lions, a thousand riding swans, and seven thousand valiant camels, all ready for battle. Yet even these marvels could not turn the tide. Two hundred thousand protected by the Kṛṣṇa faction met their destruction. Witnessing this wondrous and terrible spectacle, Jayanta, renowned for his skill in warfare, watched as all those forces were reduced to ashes and perished on the field. The victors raised a triumphant shout, their praises echoing again and again. But the struggle was not yet over. From China, the Buddhists assembled another force of twenty thousand men. Among them was Yogasiṃha, strong and valiant, mounted on an elephant and armed with bow and arrows. With his arrows, Yogasiṃha slew five thousand foes. In response, his enemies created a lion of iron and sent it against him. When that lion fell upon him, the hero met his death. Yet, striking the iron lion with his own mace, he let out a mighty roar before he perished. Then, at the urging of the Buddhist lion, a tiger was unleashed upon the field. Witnessing his two maternal uncles fall to death, the son of Svarṇavatī acted swiftly. He seized an arrow named Saṃmohana, auspicious and enchanting, and with it, he bound the Buddhist lions and ten thousand kings in enchantment. Delighted by their victory, the allies sent word and made their way to the city. They plundered by force and reached the king’s fortress. At that time, the Buddhist lion arrived and was released by Jayanta. In celebration, ten crores of gold and wealth were distributed for the joy of the victors. Thereafter, the vanquished declared, “We shall never go to the land of the Āryas for the sake of the kingdom.” The three hundred thousand, united, sought refuge with the guardians of the realm. And thus, O wise one, tell us further about Supriya, Yogasiṃha, and the others.