Xin Huohuo let out a soft hiss. Her fingertip had been instantly sliced open, and a bright red bead of blood welled up.
Actually, it was just a tiny wound—far less severe than the cuts and scrapes she'd received in battle. Yet it was excruciatingly painful, as if something were burrowing into her flesh and seeping into her bones.
It gave her a strange feeling, as though her actions just now—instinctively leaning in and rashly grabbing for the shard—had been unconscious and involuntary. It was as if she hadn't acted of her own free will, but had been controlled or bewitched by some force.
"Be more careful," Bei Mingyuan chided softly. He took Xin Huohuo's injured hand and, without a second thought, put the tip of her finger into his mouth.
Another soft hiss sounded, but this one came from Yan Huo.
