Looking at the few wooden sticks in Andrew's hand, Matteolius couldn't help but swallow a mouthful of saliva, and he trembled his hands and moved little by little to pinch a wooden stick.

I'm afraid it's impossible to say whether intercession will play any important role at this time, after all, eleven is not a joke. He looked at Andrew with a blank eye, although the probability was slim, but he still had this desire to hope that Andrew could open up to him.

"Hey, what are you doing stupidly?" Andrew looked at Matteolius with a smile and spoke as if nothing had happened, "Look at these woods, let me see if you have any good luck." ”

Andrew's extreme ruthlessness made Matteorius's head buzz and go blank for a moment.

It seems that he can't escape this catastrophe after all, poor fellow, his whole person is like a statue, stupidly appearing in front of Andrew.

With a trembling hand, he slowly raised, his fingertips touched the stick, and it retracted violently as if it had been electrocuted. Horror was written all over Matteorius's face, and he could not have imagined that the penal law that had been used to clean up ordinary soldiers in this way ended up on his head.

"Damn it! Damn it! ”

Matteorius was hysterical as if he had gone mad, and the imminent threat of death drove him crazy. He is unwilling, he is a pretentious person, how can he live and die together if he can't eat a piece of food, the most important thing is that there are still ninety percent of people who can't die.

"Whichever to choose, which one to choose!"

Now it's too late to sigh about life, he has to face the reality, then grit his teeth, pray over and over again, and randomly pull out one of the ten sticks in Andrew's hand.

He froze, his eyes fixed on the wooden stick in his hand, and a tear inadvertently slipped down his cheek.

"How?" Andrew curiously stretched out his head to take a closer look, and it turned out that there was a red dye in the middle of the wooden stick in the guy's hand.

Of course he knew what that meant, but he never thought he would be so lucky.

"Oh my gosh, this can't be, it can't be!" Surprise was written all over Matteorius' face, and he roared loudly thinking it was a trick on him.

"Well, I didn't expect you to be in good luck, and God seems to be eager to see you in his country!"

This rather ironic taunt sounded so unnatural, but what could Matteorius say, he could only bow his head and say nothing, his eyes were full of tears, and he could not say anything else.

Inadvertently, Andrew used a speed that was barely visible to the naked eye to replace the remaining nine red sticks in his hand with nothing.

"Impossible! That's impossible! ”

Matteolius shouted loudly, and he rushed over and snatched the rest of the wooden sticks from Andrew's hand, and at this moment, he was stunned again, because there was nothing on the other sticks in his hand.

"No, it's not like that, it's impossible, it's impossible!" Matteorius sat on the ground like a wretched creature whose mind had been robbed of his mind, wailing and wailing, completely oblivious to his noble appearance, his bloodline, and everything else.

He has completely become the laughing stock of the soldiers, and it is no wonder, after all, he is about to die, who cares about what nobility? At least Matteorius doesn't care.

"Resign yourself to your fate, Matt!" Andrew's face was gloomy, and his throat felt like a heavy stone was pressing, and he stepped forward slightly, his right hand hidden under his cloak and holding the hilt of his sword tightly.

His eyes were like predatory wolves staring at his prey, and Matteorius cried like a child, dropping his sticks and letting them scatter.

"Calm down, Matt, calm down!"

Andrew stretched out his left hand in a deliberate gesture of reassurance, and he leaned in and grabbed Matteorius's right arm, causing Matteolius to stop dancing and crying.

"Oh my God, oh my God, forgive me, forgive me!" Matteorius looked at Luga, who was not far away, and was so excited that he wept, and then looked around him, and the soldiers were all gloating. He finally let go of his noble attitude, for he was completely isolated.

Andrew glanced back at Luga, who could grasp his gaze, so Luga turned his head sideways and deliberately did not look at the scene.

Seeing that Luga turned his head, which meant that permission had been given, Andrew's face rose deliciously and showed an icy smile. Looking back and looking at Matteorius, he is like a chick who has lost the shelter of a hen, overwhelmed in this miserable world.

"That's fate, Matt." Andrew's voice was deep, even faintly echoing, and his left hand gripped Matteorius's arm so tightly that he almost couldn't move.

"What are you doing here? Andrew! Matteorius, who clearly felt the pain, stared at Andrew in surprise with wide eyes, but it was Andrew's murderous eyes that met him.

He suddenly realized something, took a deep breath, and was about to struggle to ask Andrew, who was clutching his arm like an eagle's claw.

"Let go of me! Let me go! Matteorius screamed, hating himself for being too late, for he was only a son of a nobleman, and he usually enjoyed the glory and wealth only so that he could take over the Palermo estate from his father, and because he had been guarded by guards, he had not received or had to be professionally trained.

But now he is helpless, weak and can only struggle alone.

Andrew didn't answer, but pulled out his right hand suddenly, only to see a flash of silver light in his hand, and the Spada iron sword on his waist appeared in his hand at some point, and he slashed it with the iron sword on his back, straight to the chain mail on Matteorius's body.

As a commander, his armor was certainly heavy, but this time it only drove a spark, and did not cause damage to the flesh.

It's just that this spark did flash Matteorius's eyes, making him stunned for a while, and in this short space of a few seconds, Andrew held his sword in mid-air and stabbed Matteorius into Matteorius's left chest.

Only to see Matteorius open his mouth wide and want to make a sound, he kept clenching his hands around Andrew's neck, and his hands clutched at his hair and the red tassels on his helmet.

Matteorius's life was passing by rapidly, his red eyes stared at Andrew, and even unwilling tears flowed from the corners of his eyes.

A warrior who kills without blinking, Andrew never showed mercy to Matteorius, he moved cleanly, even if Matteorius's hand tore his hair and made him feel pain, it didn't change his cold expression.

Gripped the hilt of the sword and thrust forward.

"Whew!"

Most of the sword ended in Matteorius's chest, and Matteorius finally took his last breath, he died, his eyes lost their light, and even the hand that tore Andrew's hair in resistance was released.

"Click!" Andrew jerked out his iron sword, and the blood it brought out even splashed on the face of a soldier ten meters away.

Matteorius was like a puppet and half hung his head, and Andrew pressed his knees against his chest, holding his sword in both hands.

"Enough! Andrew! ”

The sword had not been slashed at a shout, and Andrew looked back at Luga in confusion.

Luga was still so calm, calm and natural, as if he had crushed a dispensable ant. "Leave a whole corpse for this guy, he's a nobleman anyway."

Andrew was silent for a moment, and finally let go of his hand, causing the poor creature to fall to the ground like a cloth bag.

Matteorius's soldiers looked at Matteorius, who had become a corpse, and said nothing, and some even began to tremble, because whoever was unlucky would be next.