The blood-red wheat became dough in Ouyang Chenfeng's hand, spinning. Spirit energy scattered unceasingly, giving the dough endless radiance.
Burble! Burble!
At the same time, the big pot boiled. Its lid was trembling continuously as it released hot steam.
Ouyang Chenfeng wore a cold face, and his equally cold eyes didn't contain any emotion. It completely contrasted to his normal tender appearance. Not many people had seen this face of his.
Swish!
The blood dough rose. A moment later, Ouyang Chenfeng began to stretch the dough in his hands. He pointed one finger at the dough, sending it into the air. As the dough was spinning in the air, a strand of noodle as thin as a dragon's hair was drawn, revolving and stretching.
Shortly, the strand of noodles looked like a blooming flower around Ouyang Chenfeng's body, moving and dancing continuously. The swirling noodles looked strange but beautiful.
