Clang!
In the vast whiteness of the snowfield, the spears clashed!
Otniel Harsh staggered back three steps, spitting out a mouthful of blood, his figure somewhat unstable.
The cannon fire came so suddenly, it was a miracle he survived.
"I have long heard of the famed generals of the royal lineage, Otniel Harsh! Brother, could this be you?"
Andrew, dressed in a robe intertwined with nine dragons, held a spear in one hand and asked amidst the gunpowder-laden snowfield.
He made no effort to hide his victorious posture!
And arrogance!
"Indeed, Otniel Harsh." Upon hearing this, Otniel Harsh offered a faint smile, his pale face resolute.
The world would never know what methods Andrew used to kill Otniel Harsh!
The world knew that as spear-wielders, Otniel Harsh perished at Andrew's hands.
"Not bad!" Andrew nodded, looking Otniel Harsh over, extending his hand: "I, Andrew, also value talent. How about you join me in Pendleton?"
