"I hate those cowardly swordsmen who beg for mercy, because he begged to the ground and begged us to let him live." - Cicero

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When Hebrida was still caressing the many treasures in the tent of the Pharaoh's camp with affection, the shouts of killing outside were already in full swing. The six brigades led by Polo also rushed up. The Egyptian defense line, which was attacked from front and back, was torn apart, and could only run around in panic. The victorious side rushed into various camps and started killing, plundering wealth, raped the Pharaoh's maid, took away all animals, and then began to set fire. The fireworks rushed out from all directions of the mountain high ground and spread soon.

"This battle does not require the control of military discipline, because it is the order of the dictator to eradicate the dictator." This is the consensus reached by Li Bida and the sergeants in advance. Caesar clearly agreed to the Queen of Little Yan to execute the order of complete elimination of all those who still follow her brother. The huge massacre continued on this high ground in the Nile River. Ptolemy Thirteen's camp was occupied, and the dead soldiers around him also fled. Only the centurion Ceptimius was still following him, "Protect me, as long as you can protect Pharaoh, I will rush out, and I can reward you half of the empire in the future!" The young Pharaoh pulled Ceptimius's sleeve and ordered half begging.

In the chaos, Ceptimius, the old centurion, could only nod, then carried a sword and threw it to Ptolemy's thirteen-sided shield. The other party pushed it on his head and cloaked the clothes that symbolized the identity of the pharaoh, and ran around on the battlefield where death and killing were everywhere.

Soon, they followed the chaotic crowd to a corner on the edge of the high ground. Here there were nearly a hundred Roman-foot cliffs. There were extremely deep trenches dug below, filled with dense pickets and thorns. This was originally used by the Egyptians to guard against the Romans' attack when setting up camps. Now the people at the front of the cliff were squeezed down one by one under the congestion, and they fell to their heads and folded backs, or fell on the pickets and were pierced to death. "Don't panic, let's be on the side!" Septimius calmly grabbed the Pharaoh's hand and pulled him around the destroyed camp. The Romans' shouts of killing were getting closer and closer. The Pharaoh kept asking nervously whether he could still speak. There were people running around them, some trampling to death, and some could only keep jumping down the cliff with their eyes closed.

Perhaps when the Roman soldiers rushed to the point where they were only one Furon, Ptolemy Thirteen could see the excited expression of the enemy soldiers under the Gallic iron helmet. Then at this moment, Ceptimius grabbed his hand and said that he could leave now. Ptolemy Thirteen suddenly understood that it was the centurion who asked him to jump off the cliff, and then screamed and resisted, but the opponent's strength was too great. He was almost dragged to the edge of the cliff, and then pushed down by Ceptimius.

The noble pharaoh's clothes and cloak disintegrated in the air. He fell on the trench, and his internal organs were about to be sprayed out of the cavity. Fortunately, the ditch was filled with dead bodies in advance, which was why Septimius called him and waited just now. He miraculously did not fall to death, but rolled a few times, and then was pulled up by Septimius who jumped down with him. His mouth and nose were bleeding, and he was pulled forward like a chicken with his head deserted. This was an empty river, with reeds and ships burning everywhere. Li Bida's two legions from Bendu had already opened the net of people and pulled the Egyptian nobles and soldiers hiding in the reeds. Septimius smacked his lips, then pressed the hilt of the sword on his waist more steadily, and began to shake his hands and run towards the deeper river.

"You cannot abandon the noble Pharaoh like this!" Ptolemy Thirteen screamed, "Even if I have not been on the throne of Alexander for a long time, I have indeed been authorized and approved by the gods to escort me to Thebes."

Septimius waved his hand and said that all the rewards he promised to him were soaked with the fall of the camp. Now he just needs to return to Faros Island as soon as possible. Before Caesar pursued him for killing the two former consuls, he quickly ran away with his wife and children incognito.

Ptolemy Thirteen wiped the blood on his face, and made his heart aside, took off the turquoise ring and amber ring on his fingers, and showed it in front of Ceptimius, saying that as long as you do as I told you, these two rings will belong to you! Ceptimius smiled honestly and said that these two rings were probably worth three hundred Drachma silver coins, and it was really not worth the risk for this.

"Three Hundred Drachma, it seems that you are really Romans from the countryside? You know, this turquoise was worn by Alexander, and amber was passed down from generation to generation by the ancient Egyptian royal family. It was found by my ancestors from the tomb. The two together may have the value of hundreds of Tarantes. Now it is all yours, but you have to fulfill your promise and take me to Thebes. You can not only get a ring, but also become the chief guard of the palace." Ptolemy Thirteen shouted in sweat, then he smiled confidently, put the ring back in his hand, full of the expression of playing hard to get.

Obviously, the Roman centurion was moved. He rubbed his hands and quickly came forward.

"Then..." Before Ptolemy Thirteen gave the order, his nose was punched by Septamius, and his nose was shattered immediately, and his eyes were cracked. His expression and facial features were squeezed into a ball, and blood and teeth were splattering everywhere. He knelt down while wailing and caressing his face. Then Septamius fired his left and right, hitting him with blood, "What do you want to do, what do you want to do!" Ptolemy Thirteen's eyes were about to protrude. He was kneeling on the ground, and one hand was cut and twisted by Septamius, and his other hand was pulled to the ground. Then the young pharaoh's screams became even more shrill - Septamius's feet were stomping on him tightly.

In the hand, Pharaoh's fingers were instinctively stretched out instinctively, and then they were cut off by an axe, and his fingers rolled all over the ground. Then, Ceptimius pushed the Pharaoh, whose arms were covered in blood, walked over and took off two rings, looked at him, and carefully stuffed them into his waist bag. Then he stood up and looked at the Pharaoh who was rolling in pain with pity, and looked at the Roman army holding a torch in the dusk, "Dear, you have harmed me, you dare to give such a vicious hand to the saintly and inviolable Pharaoh." Ptolemy Thirteen was still rolling in a pool of blood, accusing angrily.
Chapter completed!