Genius one second to remember the address of this site: (vertex Chinese)., the fastest update! No ads!

Chapter 392: Ales Female God of War (2)

The left whip pointed at the frightened and powerless lady and a pair of children of Cicero, who had wanted to spare these women, but who had spared them in the palace of Ales? Who spared her and the child in her womb again?

"Let them go, kill me, everything has nothing to do with them, they are innocent." Cicero put down the sword in his hand and said calmly.

"The Earl is still thinking about his wife and children at the moment, but ...... When you tortured and killed the women and children of Ales, did you ever think that they were innocent too? Moro stopped talking nonsense, and pointed the tip of his sword at Cicero's chest.

"Don't blame me, become a king or lose a villain, that's all." Cicero closed his eyes, thinking death was coming.

The tip of Morrow's sword retracted, and a sword stabbed into the countess's chest, and the long sword was withdrawn, and the woman fell to the ground before she could utter a word.

"Quinna!" Cicero opened his eyes to find that his beloved had fallen to the ground, his blood-red eyes glaring at Morro.

Mo Luo was still laughing, but the smile was very cruel, his lips were stained with dried blood like a bewitching lipstick, and he said word by word, "Become a king, lose a villain, that's it." ”

Cicero's eyes widened and he couldn't speak.

No more nonsense.

With a sword in her right hand, she picked out Cicero's heart, causing Cicero to watch his heart being picked out of his chest, and even the heart was still beating slightly, and the blood debt was about to be paid for in blood.

Moro stared at Cicero's son and held his sister's hand in a low voice, Cicero's son should be a hundred years old, but the child was no more than seven or eight years old.

Seven or eight years old, what a good age, she herself was a carefree little girl when she was seven years old.

But now that the hatred of seeing her parents and relatives killed would torment for a lifetime, she knew that without hesitation, a blooming blood flower would bloom on the little girl's chest, and there would be no pain at all, which was the only thing she could do.

She knew that all too well.

With another whip around Cicero's only son's neck, he dragged him out of the tunnel, picked up the mask that fell to the ground with his toes, tied the strap with one hand, and walked out of the barrier and out of the high-sounding mansion.

Step by step, with bloody footprints in every step, the bloodied goddess of war dragged Cicero's son with a whip in one hand and Cicero's heart with a sword in the other, and walked out of Mondstadt's most prosperous thoroughfare.

No one dared to get close.

Not far away, Lorenzo was standing behind with a group of people, and Lorenzo, who was standing at the front, was almost hallucinating, unable to believe his eyes.

Raised hands stopped the footsteps of the army and stood

That kind of temperament, that kind of innate ability, that kind of murderous determination, and the ghostly aura that emanates from all over her body will be what a noble lady should have?

Even if she is the daughter of a general.

But the general is always a general, and the general's daughter is always the general's daughter.

He recalled in his mind the woman's face on the Mont Saint-Victoire, obviously tired, tired, tormented, and heartbroken, but the woman in front of him transcended these, although he could see the traces of pain, but the power of hatred was far greater than grief, like a natural king and victor, a natural leader.

Even if this man is not Dolores, it is definitely not Moro, and his Moro is not like this.