Snowfield Feline Appears

Yes, during this period of evolution, his body had once again begun to shed its skin.

As his sharp claws tore at it, sounds like ripping silk rang out—the snake skin sloughing off his body.

Even the old skin he shed now possessed defenses that could not be underestimated.

Watching the old skin peel away in pieces, Bai Chuan could only feel a wave of exhilarating relief coursing through his entire body; the itching, numbness, and stinging pain were gone.

He had to admit, having a pair of nimble claws made a world of difference.

Thinking back to the past, when he wanted to shed his old skin, he had to search everywhere for narrow crevices to squeeze into, using those places to scrape it off—and even then, it was hard to get it all clean.

Nothing like now—easy, clean, and fast.

When Bai Chuan had completely crawled out of his shed skin, he was astonished to find that his body size had exploded to six meters.

This size had already surpassed the recorded limits of any King Cobra.

At this size, he seemed no weakling even among the python family, let alone with his other abilities.

"Everything's taken care of—time for a good meal." After surveying his dramatically increased size, Bai Chuan's small foreclaws patted his empty belly, and then he slithered out of the cave.

One meter... two meters...

As the distance he traveled grew, the Great Serpent's pitch-black figure gradually faded, fainter and fainter, as if losing its color.

Until finally, it vanished into the air like it had become transparent.

Snowfield.

The cold wind blew, snowflakes falling, chilling to the bone.

"Squeak~ squeak~"

A series of sharp, miserable screams suddenly rang out across the snowfield.

Then, a white rabbit with a broken leg hobbled out, limping.

Its face was filled with terror; its long ears, which would normally either stand straight up or rest relaxed, were now pressed tightly back against its body.

Its jet-black eyes were brimming with fear as it kept twisting its head to look behind, as if some monster was chasing it.

It dared not stop, struggling forward through the snow.

With each struggle, its broken thigh oozed fresh, crimson blood, first soaking the fur on its leg, then dripping steadily onto the pure white snow.

In that moment, white was the snow, and red was the blood.

Meanwhile, not far behind this broken-legged rabbit.

"Crunch~ crunch~"

A faint sound of compression began to emerge as the snow was continuously pushed aside. Soon, a massive, elongated groove slowly appeared on the smooth snow surface.

It looked as if some enormous, invisible, dangerous creature had passed through.

And in fact, that was exactly the case.

The one passing by was none other than Bai Chuan, who was in a state of environmental camouflage—commonly known as "invisibility."

Of course, Bai Chuan wasn't just passing through; he had been trailing this snow rabbit the whole time.

Since leaving the cave, aside from barely catching one snow rabbit at the very start, he hadn't been able to find any other living creatures.

Left with no choice, he looked at the tiny rabbit in his claws—not even enough for a single gulp—on this wind-chilled day.

Then a sudden inspiration struck him: instead of eating it and still going hungry, why not use it as bait for an experiment?

No sooner said than done. The next moment, he easily snapped one of the rabbit's thighs to keep it from bolting out of sight instantly, then deliberately inflicted a wound on it.

After that, he dropped it onto this snowfield and leisurely hung back behind it.

He let the pitiful rabbit struggle forward through the wind, letting every drop of blood and the scent of it be carried farther by the gusting breeze.

As the rabbit kept fleeing, it wasn't long before.

A nimble figure quietly appeared on the snowfield.

The moment he spotted that figure, Bai Chuan instinctively held his breath and stopped slithering.

His scales seemed to come alive, pressing tightly against his body in perfect alignment to reduce the scent he gave off.

Only then did he look from afar, carefully studying the figure.

The figure, overall, looked like an oversized cat, but unlike a cat.

Its body was stout, its limbs long, its tail short and thick with a blunt, rounded tip; its ears were broad at the base, tipped with black, erect tufts of fur, and long hair hung down from its cheeks, with very long belly fur as well.

Its back was a deeper reddish-brown, with darker fur in the center; its belly was a pale yellowish-white; the fur around its eyes was white, and its cheeks bore two to three rows of distinct brown-black vertical stripes.

This was a creature unique to the snowfield—a Lynx.

Right now, it was creeping stealthily toward the bleeding snow rabbit.

Seeing this, Bai Chuan smiled.

Because, whether by coincidence or not, this Lynx happened to be sidling toward him from the side.

...and it was constantly approaching him.

This was a pleasant surprise. He had thought he would need to sneak up from behind and strike, but instead the target was delivering itself to him.

It seemed he would get to play the part of the protagonist waiting by the stump for the rabbit.

As the target drew closer, Bai Chuan suppressed his aura further and further, waiting only for the target to step within range so he could burst forth and kill.

At that moment, the Lynx had no idea that another unseen predator lurked in this snowy white expanse, waiting for its arrival.

It crept forward cautiously, step by step, its clever eyes darting around as it observed its surroundings.

The prey's dying screams told it that such a commotion would soon attract a crowd of carnivores.

It had to close in and claim its prize as fast as possible, then slip away at leisure.

As it approached—one meter... two meters...

Soon, it entered Bai Chuan's attack range: six meters away.

And then, it finally sensed something was wrong.

Because it seemed to have touched something that shouldn't be there—pointed, hot, and long.

What was this?!

In an instant, the Lynx instinctively lifted its head.

And as if in perfect coordination with its movement, the next moment, a hideous, enormous black serpent's maw slowly materialized from thin air, its cold, sharp eyes fixed on the Lynx.

The raised head, the neck flared wide like a hood, the dazzling and mysterious golden patterns.

The gaping mouth, the sharp, hard fangs gleaming in the snow.

Startled, the Lynx's fur bristled all over, and it arched its back to leap backward.

Its keen instincts told it: this was another predator, and it had been marked!

But it was too late. Bai Chuan had never encountered a feline before, but he had long heard of their incredible reflexes and agility.

To guarantee a perfect ambush, he had forcibly suppressed the urge to strike from thirteen meters away.

Instead, he waited until six meters—until it was right beside him.

Only then did he slowly open his serpentine maw and dive down.

The next moment, a sharp tearing sound split the air.

Pfft!

The sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out—the fangs sinking into the neck.

Before it could resist, the Great Serpent's Flexible and resilient body began coiling around the Lynx's limbs and torso.

Then it locked tight.

And at that moment, the golden venom began pumping rapidly from the Great Serpent's fangs, surging wildly into the Lynx's body.