Chapter 531 Drawing Lots

Looking at the wooden sticks in Andrew's hand, Matteoris couldn't help swallowing his saliva. With trembling hands, he moved a little bit to hold a wooden stick.

I'm afraid it's hard to say whether asking for mercy at this time will have any important effect. After all, Eleventh Law is not joking. He looked at Andrew eagerly. Although the chances were slim, he still had this desire and hoped that Andrew would show leniency to him.

"Hey, what are you doing standing there?" Andrew looked at Mateolius with a smile, speaking as if nothing had happened. "Take a look at these pieces of wood, let me see if you have any good luck."

Andrew's extreme ruthlessness made Mateolius's head buzz and go blank in an instant.

It seemed that he could not escape this disaster after all. Poor guy, he looked like a statue, standing stupidly in front of Andrew.

The trembling hand slowly raised up, the fingertips touched the stick, and then suddenly retracted as if it had been electrocuted. Matteolius's face was full of horror, he couldn't imagine that this punishment used to deal with ordinary soldiers would eventually fall on his head.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Mateolius was hysterical as if he had gone mad, the threat of death so close at hand made him crazy. He was unwilling to give in, as he was a pretentious person. How could they live and die together if they couldn't even eat together? The most important thing was that 90% of the people would not die.

"Choose which one, choose which one!"

There was no time to lament about life now. He had to face reality, then grit his teeth, prayed over and over again, and randomly drew one of the ten sticks in Andrew's hand.

He was stunned, his eyes fixed on the wooden stick in his hand, and a tear slid down his cheek inadvertently.

"What's going on?" Andrew leaned over to take a closer look out of curiosity. It turned out that there was a ball of red dye in the middle of the wooden stick in the guy's hand.

Of course he knew what this meant, but he never thought that he was such a lucky guy.

"Oh my God, this is impossible, impossible!" Mateolius' face was full of surprise, and he roared loudly, thinking that this was a prank on him.

"Well, I never thought that you are so lucky. It seems that God can't wait to see you in his kingdom!"

This ironic sarcasm sounded so unnatural, but what could Mateolius say? He could only lower his head and remain silent, his eyes filled with tears, and he could not say anything else.

Without Matteolius noticing, Andrew replaced the remaining nine red sticks in his hand with empty ones at a speed almost invisible to the naked eye.

"Impossible! This is impossible!"

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

"No, it's not like that. This is impossible, impossible!" Mateolius sat on the ground and wailed like a poor wretch whose mind had been taken away by God, completely ignoring his noble appearance, bloodline and everything else.

He became a complete laughing stock among the soldiers, and it was no wonder. After all, he was about to die, so who cared about nobility? At least Mateolius didn't care.

"Accept your fate, Matt!" Andrew's face was gloomy, and his throat felt like a heavy stone was pressing on it. He took a step forward, and his right hand, hidden under his cloak, pressed the hilt of the sword tightly.

His eyes were like those of a predatory wolf staring at its prey. Mateolius cried like a child and dropped the sticks in his hand, letting them scatter to the ground.

"Calm down, Matt, calm down!"

Andrew stretched out his left hand in a soothing gesture. He came over and grabbed Mateorius's right arm, asking him to stop dancing and crying.

"Oh my God, oh my God, forgive me, forgive me!" Mateolius looked eagerly at Luca who was not far away, and his tears were streaming down his face. Then he looked around and saw that the soldiers were all gloating. He finally let go of his usual noble attitude because he was completely isolated and helpless.

Andrew turned his head and looked at Luca. Luca could understand his eyes, so he turned his head away and deliberately avoided looking at this scene.

Seeing Luca turned his head, it meant that permission had been given, and Andrew's face turned up and he smiled coldly. Turning back, he looked at Mateolius, who was like a chick that had lost the protection of its hen, at a loss in this miserable world.

"This is fate, Matt." Andrew's voice was deep, and even echoed faintly. His left hand tightly grasped Mateorius' arm, with such great force that Mateorius almost couldn't move.

"What are you doing? Andrew!" Matteolius, who was obviously feeling the pain, stared at Andrew in surprise with his eyes wide open, but what he met was Andrew's eyes full of murderous intent.

He suddenly realized something, took a deep breath, and was about to struggle to get rid of Andrew, who was holding his arm tightly like an eagle's claw.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Mateolius screamed, regretting that he understood it too late. He was just a son of a noble family. He enjoyed wealth and glory just to be able to take over the Palermo industry from his father. Because of the layers of guards protecting him, he had never received and had no need to receive professional training.

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

Andrew did not answer, but suddenly pulled out his right hand. There was a flash of silver light in his hand, and the Spada iron sword on his waist appeared in his hand at some point. He held the iron sword upside down and slashed it across, directly hitting the chain mail on Mateolius' body.

As a commander, his armor was certainly thick, and this blow only caused a spark but did not cause any physical harm.

However, the spark did flash Mateorius' eyes, making him stunned for a while. In this short few seconds of blank time, Andrew raised the sword in mid-air and stabbed it into Mateorius' left chest.

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All he saw was Mateolius opening his mouth wide, trying to make a sound. He kept clenching his hands, hugging Andrew's neck, and tightly grasping his hair and the red tassel on his helmet.

Mateolius' life was slipping away rapidly. His red eyes stared at Andrew, and even tears of reluctance flowed from the corners of his eyes.

As a warrior who kills without blinking an eye, Andrew showed no mercy to Mateorius from beginning to end. He acted cleanly and efficiently, and even when Mateorius's hands tore his hair and caused him pain, he did not change his cold expression.

Gripping the hilt of the sword tightly, he thrust forward fiercely.

"laugh!"

Most of the sword was inserted into Mateorius' chest. Mateorius finally took his last breath and died. His eyes lost their light, and even the hand that was resisting and tearing Andrew's hair loosened.

"Crack!" Andrew pulled out the iron sword violently, and the blood even splashed on the face of a soldier ten meters away.

Mateolius half lowered his head like a puppet, and Andrew propped up his chest with his knees and held the sword high with both hands.

"That's enough! Andrew!"

The sword did not cut down after a shout, and Andrew turned around and looked at Luca in confusion.

Luka remained calm, as if he had crushed an insignificant ant. "Leave this guy with an intact body. He is a noble after all."

Andrew was silent for a moment, and finally let go of his hand, letting the poor guy fall heavily to the ground like a sack.

Mateorius' soldiers looked at Mateorius, who had become a corpse, without saying a word. Some even began to tremble, because whoever was unlucky would be the next.

(End of this chapter)