Chapter 64: One Who Cannot Master Biology Is Not a Good Shaman!

"Great Fireball Technique? So Mimicry really is an illusion, isn’t it?" Wang Chen sighed, feeling as though he’d run into Orochimaru.

In his hands, Forest Tempest danced, the tip of his staff crackling with electric light as he struck first.

"Lightning Barrier!"

Three orbs of lightning, connected by chains of electric current, lashed out wildly and exploded in dazzling flashes upon striking the Crown Flame Python, the twisting energy wrapping firmly around its body.

The Crown Flame Python let out a furious screech, its tongue flickering with a hiss that echoed all around. It coiled and thrashed, trying to break free of the lightning orbs’ binding.

But those electric chains were not so easily torn apart. No matter how the Flame Python rolled and writhed across the ground, its shackles showed no sign of loosening.

"As expected, the energy intensity of my skills has increased a bit after leveling up," Wang Chen thought to himself, continuing to wave Forest Tempest.

"Life’s Benediction!"

Deathly aura billowed from the staff’s tip as a black-red chain of death shot out and bound the python’s belly and tail, barbed and lashing, the hooks digging repeatedly into its flesh.

These two skills, combined, managed to restrain the Flame Python for now, but Wang Chen’s goal was far from simple containment.

Even children who watch nature documentaries know that to strike a snake, you aim for its 'seven-inch'—hit it hard there, and dealing with it becomes much easier.

Right now, his skills served only to suppress the Flame Python, preventing it from launching another attack. Wang Chen still needed to guide the battle further.

He swung Forest Tempest again, the tip shrouded in mist.

"Totem of Nature!"

Threads of water streamed from the staff’s tip, swirling together not far from the python’s body to form a pillar of water, within which a vortex of death spun menacingly.

Wang Chen planted the water pillar, then flicked a beam of light from Forest Tempest, striking the python’s neck.

"Binding Spell!"

From the point of light to the tip of the staff stretched a crystalline filament, thin as a piano wire. Wang Chen tugged the filament, dragging the Flame Python toward the pillar of water.

The Crown Flame Python seemed to sense the terror within the swirling water column. Ignoring the electric shocks and the relentless agony of the barbed chain, it endured the pain and struggled mightily against Wang Chen’s pull.

But how could it overpower him?

Though Wang Chen’s class was a support one, the Crown Flame Python was by no means a beast known for its strength. Its skills revealed as much.

The canopy mimicry was a skill meant for self-preservation, particularly effective when the python was young.

Even as an adult, it was an excellent ambush skill—whether leaping down upon unsuspecting prey from the canopy or spitting flames from above, the effect was always one of surprise.

From these skills and the tactics they dictated, it was clear the Crown Flame Python’s strength was mediocre among its kin.

Pythons, after all, are only truly formidable in constriction, and Wang Chen would not give it that chance.

Ever since his skills suppressed the python’s stealth, the tide of battle had shifted.

As for Wang Chen, he wasn’t relying on brute force to drag the python with the light filament—if that were the case, he might as well bring along coils of piano wire and try his luck at tug-of-war with every beast he met.

He could match strength with the Bone Python or the Crown Flame Python only because his skills temporarily granted him the illusion of great power through the filament, allowing him to drag even a giant python.

Moreover, the Tree of Life boots he wore glimmered with emerald light, radiating beneath his feet and bolstering him in the struggle.

"Rock-Solid Stance!"

The rippling light, like countless roots, burrowed into the earth, anchoring Wang Chen firmly so that not even the python’s might could unbalance him.

Thus, the python was inexorably dragged toward the water pillar, where whirling blades of water awaited to tear it apart.

The giant python thrashed madly, unwilling to be hauled into the grinder.

At that moment, a sturdy tree nearby caught its attention.

The Flame Python quickly coiled its tail around the tree’s base, its body tensed, gaining leverage beyond mere friction against the ground, and forcibly halted Wang Chen’s pull.

Wang Chen smiled faintly—this was precisely within his calculations.

Returning to the basic principle of striking a snake at its 'seven-inch'—where, exactly, is that on a snake’s body? It’s a question that depends on the situation.

Generally, the so-called 'seven-inch' is about seven inches down from the snake’s head, right where the heart lies.

Unlike other creatures, snakes lack sufficient muscle, fat, or bone to protect their hearts—find the spot and strike it hard, and death is usually swift.

But the location of the 'seven-inch' varies with the snake’s size—if a snake isn’t even seven inches long, how could its heart be there?

The best way is to find the junction between neck and belly; the heart is there.

From the neck down, the body thickens—that’s the boundary.

For professionals, this spot is easy to find; not so for the uninitiated.

If you’re ever truly cornered by a snake with no tools or escape, grip it at the 'three-inch'—the nerve center just behind the head. It’s fragile, and a firm squeeze can even paralyze the snake.

But here, the Crown Flame Python facing Wang Chen could not be handled like a small snake, so he decided to target its seven-inch.

The exact spot was no problem—he could probe to find it, and besides, he could see through the python’s eyes, observing its anxiety.

That was also why he provoked the python to stretch itself straight—much easier to aim that way.

Still grappling with the python, Wang Chen found a free moment to raise his left hand, palm upright, where the roar of waves seemed to gather.

"Wave Dragon Strike!"

A water bullet, snakelike and swift, shot toward Wang Chen’s estimated target!

Bang!

The Wave Dragon struck the python’s body, drilling in with force and leaving a bloody, ragged circle.

The two skills binding the python had tormented it, its low growl unbroken since this began.

But after the Wave Dragon hit, there was a sudden pause in its cry—Wang Chen was enlightened.

"That’s the python’s lung. But I need to confirm if it’s the left or right."

As soon as the cooldown ended, the sound of surging waves filled his palm again.

"Wave Dragon Strike!"

The lithe water bullet shot out, so fast it screamed through the air like a roaring water dragon.

This time it struck just above the previous spot, and the python’s cry broke off once more.

"Good, it’s the right lung," Wang Chen thought to himself.

Snakes’ lungs are peculiar—the left is much smaller than the right, just a small section, and just above the left lung lies the heart.

If it had been the left lung, the last high shot would have been fatal.