086 Ten Thousand Serpents, it's your turn.

It’s shedding its skin!

Realizing this, Orochimaru leapt off the gray giant python, retreating to the previous serpent’s head, gazing at his opponent from afar.

Ordinary snakes shed their skin to grow.

A snake’s skin and scales are formed from a keratinized layer—tough, abrasion-resistant, waterproof, preventing loss of internal moisture, and more, offering many advantages.

Yet there is one aspect in which snake skin is inferior to the skin of other creatures: it cannot expand as the snake grows.

Thus, at regular intervals, snakes must shed their skin. The longer a snake lives, the more times it sheds. This is a law of growth, or perhaps, a physiological phenomenon unique to snakes.

But for the extraordinary snakes of Dragon Cave, shedding takes on a different meaning.

For example, the magical snakes led by the White Snake Sage shed their skin to grow—not by increasing their size, but rather, by shrinking their bodies.

It isn’t a matter of breaking free; instead, a new skin forms within, while the outer petrified layer peels away.

This is a technique the White Snake Sage developed by combining natural energy with physiological instinct—its purpose is to counteract the burden of size, to achieve evolution, and is a path entirely opposite to that of the warrior snakes.

Yet the foolish snake, Manda, possesses a similar skill.

He cannot use sage arts, but relies on pure instinct, employing ‘shedding’ to escape danger.

It’s akin to the White Snake Sage’s shedding, but only in that a new skin forms within; the size neither shrinks nor grows.

The sole purpose is to use the shed skin as a substitute, diverting harm.

Orochimaru had witnessed Manda perform this skill many times and was quite familiar with it.

Therefore, he was certain that the gray giant python, this warrior snake, was not using a shedding technique like Manda’s.

It was growing.

This… was truly fascinating.

Orochimaru arched a brow, suppressing the urge to further tamper with the First Cells, and watched the gray giant python with keen interest.

If this ‘shedding’ were like that of the White Snake Sage, once the gray python refined its body, its enhanced chakra would greatly increase its chances of taming the First Cells.

Importantly, by having the gray python display such potential, the White Snake Sage would naturally take interest, making this venture a resounding success.

If, however, it was merely snake growth, the process would be far more perilous.

The First Cells would, during the python’s growth, rapidly iterate and fully integrate with the serpent’s body, embarking on a path to perfect cellular fusion.

It sounded promising, but under such conditions, a single misstep and the body would turn to wood, transforming completely into a tree.

Perfect cellular fusion was his ultimate desire for the First Cells, but many challenges remained unsolved.

Until now, he had only ever used partial First Cell transplants.

Which was it, then?

Under Orochimaru’s expectant gaze, the gray giant python curled up, rolling back and forth in the cavern, its snout pressed against the hard earth and stone, constantly rubbing. After a moment, it tore open the outermost layer of its skin.

“Hisssss…”

The gray python cried out in pain, suffering both from the agony of shedding and the diminishing effect of the inhibitor; the First Cells were becoming active once more.

The python dared not waste time. Swinging its head, it widened the torn wound on its skin; soon enough, the gap was large enough for its body to slip through.

A rasping sound echoed across the rocky ground—the friction of snake body against snake skin, reminiscent of a dull blade slicing meat, chilling to the ear.

But Orochimaru’s attention was riveted on the emerging serpent body; he involuntarily licked his lips, his gaze full of intense interest.

The serpent’s color was no longer gray-brown, but had turned a vibrant green, like a forest tree snake.

From the way the giant python shed its skin, it was clear this was not a sage art like the White Snake Sage’s, but pure growth.

A bit disappointing, but not without merit.

Orochimaru raised his brow; his shadow clone, sharing his mind and purpose, had already set out other experimental apparatus, methodically recording data.

To witness perfect First Cell fusion on the python was valuable for his future experiments.

Moreover, the snake had survived the experiment, so even if the White Snake Sage wished to blame him, the matter would not escalate too far.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, the tree snake let out another hiss, rolling once more across the rocky ground.

The newly formed skin began to crack, soon covered in scars.

Orochimaru was astonished. “Is it shedding again?”

Unexpected, yet somehow inevitable.

With the formidable replication and proliferation ability of the First Cells, it was indeed possible for the python to leap through its growth cycle in a short time.

Orochimaru’s heart sank. This degree of growth—the perfect fusion of First Cells—was even more terrifying than he had imagined.

“Aaaah…”

Dust billowed across the rocky ground as the emerald python rolled, tossing layer upon layer of earth skyward.

This time, the shedding was far more chaotic than before; it could no longer gradually peel the skin from its snout, instead tearing it apart by brute force against the hard stone.

Such violence would leave ordinary snakes—Manda included—covered in wounds, but thanks to the First Cells, though the python bled profusely, it appeared outwardly unharmed.

Yet judging by its desperate struggle, it surely wished to shed as a normal snake would.

Soon, despite some adhesion, most of the skin was cast off by the emerald python, revealing a body whose color had deepened from emerald to dark green.

Pitiful cries escaped the snake’s mouth, but compared to before, they were weak and spent; two sheddings had drained its energy, leaving it unable to suppress or interfere with the First Cells any longer.

Not long after, fissures appeared again on the unscathed skin of the emerald python. This time, it was not shedding—the broken scales revealed clusters of fleshy buds beneath.

They grew and divided rapidly, reaching a certain size before becoming woody, their tips sprouting branches and leaves.

Orochimaru licked his lips, having foreseen this outcome.

As expected, the massive serpent body became fertile ground for seeds—saplings of varying sizes drew nutrients from it, and in an instant, a forest sprang up.

Orochimaru no longer looked at the failed specimen; he reflected on the shortcomings of his experiment and the improvements needed, then leapt to stand before Manda.

“You… you can’t do this to me!”

Having witnessed what befell the giant python, Manda was stunned, chilled to the bone by this human’s evil.

Orochimaru smiled as usual. “Manda, it’s your turn.”

“No… no, Orochimaru, if you do this, the Sage won’t spare you!”

Manda threatened and bellowed, but his heart lacked conviction—even he could understand, at this point, the reason no one had intervened for so long.