Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 100: A Strange Pill

Back in the forest, Zhao Qun hung from the tree, still smoking slightly, wondering how exactly he’d explain this to his employer.

Meanwhile, Han Yu followed Li Mei deeper into the woods, where her mobile lab had been set up inside what appeared to be a repurposed tool shed covered in talismans, rat skulls, and a polite warning sign that read:

"Do Not Enter Unless You’re Okay With Sudden Enlightenment Or Spontaneous Tail Growth."

"Where did this place come from?" Han Yu was sure there was nothing like this before.

"I have my means." Li Mei said, not elaborating further.

And as the doors creaked shut behind him, Han Yu knew—deep in his soul, in his bones, and in the small spot behind his ear where she injected things—that peace was once again postponed.

Because there were pills.

And he was the only idiot left brave—or dumb—enough to take them.

Inside Li Mei’s "mobile lab"—which, by all appearances, had once been a gardening shed, then a squirrel’s funeral shrine, and then whatever this was—Han Yu sat on a wobbly stool, eyeing a glass vial full of suspiciously sparkly liquid.

"Why is it glittering?" he asked, nudging the vial with a chopstick.

"That’s not glitter," Li Mei said proudly. "That’s condensed vitality crystals made from the blood of a squirrel that spent thirty years in meditation."

"...You’re making that up."

"Am I?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement and maybe just a little madness.

Han Yu sniffed the vial.

"It smells like fermented acorns and regret."

"Good! That means it’s ready."

She shoved the vial into his hands and pulled out a scroll covered in chicken-scratch handwriting and a crude drawing of a man exploding.

"This is Pill Seventeen," she explained. "Theoretically, it enhances your spiritual perception. Opens all your meridians. Aligns your chi. Realigns your spine. Possibly also turns your pupils into hexagons."

"And you want me to test it because...?"

"Because you’re durable, expendable, and mildly amusing when you scream."

Han Yu stared at the potion. Then at Li Mei. Then at the emergency bucket labeled "Oops."

"...Fine. But if I grow another eyebrow on my chin, I’m charging triple."

Though triple of what? Han Yu didn’t know. So far, he hadn’t even been paid once.

He downed the vial.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then everything happened.

His spine crackled like thunder. His eyes rolled back. His ears started twitching independently of each other.

"I see everything," he whispered. "I can hear the ants arguing. The trees are... judging me. The cauldron is humming in D minor."

Li Mei scribbled notes like a woman possessed.

"Good! Good! That means your spiritual perception has increased by at least 700%! Tell me—how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three, but emotionally? Eight."

"Perfect." Li Mei wrote it down quickly, adding more notes to it. ’Subject shows enhanced spiritual perception despite being at the Seventh Stage of the Body Tempering Realm. More observations needed.’

Han Yu suddenly stood up, eyes glowing faintly. He pointed at a wall.

"There’s a spiritual crack behind that plank. Minor fire attribute. Probably caused by your last experiment."

Li Mei blinked.

"...There’s no way you could’ve known that. Wait, say more!"

Han Yu turned toward the east.

"Elder Lu lost his lucky hairpin under the fish pond five years ago. The carp still guard it. The sock I gave to the Rat Syndicate is in the hands of Outer Court Disciple Liu Bei. He’s lonely and his rubbing his face on it."

Li Mei’s jaw dropped.

"You’re... you’re a clairvoyant genius now!"

Han Yu’s head snapped toward her.

"Also, your left eyebrow is a lie."

"Okay, still maybe a little unstable," she admitted.

Hours later, Han Yu wandered through the sect like a prophet in pajama robes. Servants avoided him. Birds fled. Even the wind seemed hesitant.

He passed by a group of disciples, pointed at one, and declared:

"You will trip over a beetle on the third step of your next spar. You will deny it. But deep down, you’ll know it was the beetle’s revenge."

The disciple stumbled away in terror. Partly due to Han Yu’s strange state and mostly due to Li Mei, the crazy alchemist, following behind him.

Li Mei, trailing behind with a measuring device that looked suspiciously like a spiritual blender, grinned.

"We did it! We finally made a pill that works!"

"It works too well," Han Yu groaned. "I haven’t blinked in thirty-seven minutes. My soul keeps trying to astral project without me."

"You’ll be fine," she said dismissively. "Probably."

Suddenly, Han Yu stopped.

"...Something’s wrong."

"Like, besides everything?"

He turned sharply.

"Someone’s coming."

A moment later, a figure stepped out from behind a tree. It was Elder Jiang’s disciple’s personal attendant—a high-ranking servant with slick hair, sharp robes, and the soulless eyes of a man who ironed towels for fun.

"Han Yu," the servant said coldly. "You’ve been summoned. Elder Jiang has questions about a stolen sock, and also, why your name keeps appearing in strange rat-related correspondences."

Han Yu’s eye twitched.

"I knew that sock was cursed..."

Li Mei patted his back.

"Don’t worry. If they throw you in the Sect Dungeons, I’ll smuggle in a snack and maybe a new pill. It’ll be our first underground trial run!"

"That’s not comforting."

The servant snapped his fingers. Two guards appeared, presumably to "escort" Han Yu, although they looked more like the type who accidentally tossed people into lakes with weighted robes.

Han Yu turned to Li Mei.

"Tell the rats... I never got to eat the second peanut." Still looking delusional due to the pills effects, his words making no sense.

"You’ll be fine," she winked. "You’re too inconvenient to die."

As Han Yu was marched away under spiritual guard, he sighed to himself.

"I was promised a quiet life. Some sweeping. Maybe a gentle mop romance."

From behind, Li Mei shouted cheerfully:

"Don’t forget! If they take your blood, bottle some! I need more test samples!"