For both Xia Feng and her, merely biting the fingertip can effectively prevent more resistance and hostility from developing.
Thinking of this, Huang Zhaoyue stopped overthinking, her cold, beautiful face slightly advancing, and opened her mouth.
The dragon's sharp teeth easily pierced the fingertip, and the blood thread entered the belly. It was still that nauseating pale breath, but it was still not Dragon Spirit Blood. She frowned, her fox-grey beautiful eyes coldly lifted, showing displeasure amidst disdain.
Xia Feng's black eyes slightly squinted. To be honest, he really thought Huang Zhaoyue looked like a pitiful little dog begging for food.
Of course, aside from being pitiful, there was also a hint of fierceness.
Until a heart-piercing sensation came from the fingertip, he regained his senses and then separated the Spiritual Quality, merging it into the blood to form Dragon Spirit Blood, which seeped out drip by drip from the fingertip.
Time passed bit by bit.
