Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 108: First Payment

Later that night, Han Yu sat in his room, back aching, hands sore, mind spinning.

He was now:

The Ninth Stage of Body Tempering,

The accidental idol of an underground rat society,

The only recorded human user of Rat-Forged Spirit Ink,

And the personal servant of a woman who made most of the disciples fear her.

"...I have made so many bad decisions," he whispered into his blanket.

Sniffles curled up beside him, squeaking softly.

Han Yu sighed.

"...I’ll be back at the lab tomorrow."

Because somewhere, deep down, he knew—

This madness was only getting started.

Morning sunlight filtered into the lab like it was afraid of what it might find. Which was fair. Even the roosters avoided crowing too close to Li Mei’s courtyard after what happened to the last one (it crowed at the wrong time and became part of a "bone-manipulating broth").

Han Yu yawned as he stepped over three toads who were mutated by alchemy playing dice and ducked beneath a floating herb grinder doing aerial Tai Chi.

"Morning," he muttered.

Li Mei popped up from behind a smoking cauldron, wearing goggles, gloves, and what looked like a tutu made of fireproof lotus petals.

"You survived the night! Excellent. That means the long-term effects of the ink haven’t kicked in."

Han Yu froze. "There are long-term effects?!"

She shrugged. "Possibly. Unconfirmed. Could be minor things like spontaneous floating. Or minor bone softness. The usual."

"I’m going to ignore that so I can enjoy what little peace I still have," Han Yu said.

Li Mei grinned. "Good news though—you’re getting paid today!"

Han Yu’s soul re-entered his body.

"You’re not joking, right?"

"Of course not. I’m a woman of my word." She rummaged through her desk, threw aside some glowing rat armor, a potion labeled "DO NOT DRINK UNLESS YOU’RE OKAY WITH BEING HAUNTED", and a scroll titled "Recipe for Edible Thunder."

Finally, she pulled out a pouch with a proud little jingle.

"Here!" she beamed, tossing it at him.

Han Yu opened the pouch.

Three. Gleaming. Gold coins.

Real gold. Not illusion talismans. Not chocolate that turns into bees. Actual, honest-to-Heavenly-Daos gold coins.

Han Yu stared in disbelief. "You’re paying me... in gold?"

"Of course. I’m not a peasant."

"Three coins?! That’s like—like—"

"Enough to buy some weapons, buy a decent robe, and not eat rice gruel every day?" she said sweetly.

Han Yu looked at the coins like they were sacred treasures.

"Do I bow? Do I cry? Do I name my first child Li Mei Junior?"

"Oh, and that’s not all," she added, pulling out a small wooden box. "Bonus time!"

Han Yu opened it.

Inside were six sleek, finger-sized pills with odd runes carved into their surface.

"Uh... these aren’t edible, right?"

Li Mei snorted. "Gods, no! These are throwing pills."

"...That’s a thing?"

"Yes! You throw them like darts. Each one has an effect. I call them: Panic Pellets™."

Han Yu picked one up carefully. "And what do they do?"

"Well," Li Mei said cheerfully, counting on her fingers, "one causes a minor flashbang, one emits a fog that smells like wet cabbage, one temporarily causes everything to float upside down in a ten-foot radius, one creates a pocket illusion of your angry mother scolding you, one explodes into fake spirit stones to distract greedy opponents, and—oh!—one summons exactly three geese."

"...Why?"

"I don’t know. But the geese are very judgmental." Li Mei replied. "Also they’re illusionary so kicking them won’t make them go away." she added.

Han Yu stared at her. "You’re giving me magic grenades. Made of pure chaos."

"You’re welcome."

He placed the pills into a small cloth pouch and tied it to his belt with a reverent nod.

"Alright," he said with sudden, deep satisfaction. "I’m no longer poor, I’ve got weaponized nonsense, and I might finally get some respect around here."

Sniffles popped up from a drawer, squeaked once, and threw confetti made of crushed beetle wings.

"See?" Li Mei gestured. "Even your followers are celebrating!"

"They’re rats, Li Mei. Rats. Smart ones, but still rats."

"Your rats."

Han Yu sighed. "Okay. What’s next?"

"You have the day off. No pill testing today." Li Mei replied much to his surprise. "I have some commissions to do today."

"...Really?" Han Yu couldn’t believe it. "And you do commissions, what kind?" he wondered.

"Just the usual ones the sect gives out missions for. Or those that other disciples request." Li Mei replied.

"You do those? I thought you just made crazy pills." Han Yu muttered.

"How else do you think I make my money to experiment?" Li Mei stated.

"True." Now that Han Yu thought of it, Li Mei certainly didn’t seem to be lacking money. ’Even compared to other Outer Court Disciples’ she is quite rich. No wonder she can casually spend thousands of gold or spirit stones on some random pills that might not even work.’ he thought.

"Yup. But tomorrow—new batch! One might be a skin-hardening pill. One might be a time-delayed hiccup bomb. Who knows?"

Han Yu slowly backed toward the door. "I’m gonna go spend some gold before you invent a sentient plant that eats people."

"I’ve already created one before but have fun!" she called, already scribbling madly into her notes. "Also, I submitted all the paperwork! You’re officially my personal servant now. No more mop duty for you!"

Han Yu paused in the doorway.

"...Seriously?"

"Seriously. Elder Feng approved it this morning. He said, and I quote, ’If you can survive her, you deserve some hazard pay and exemption from all sect chores.’"

"...That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me."

"You’ll still have to help me organize rat-scented incense and clean the fireproof cabinets, though."

"Close enough."

As Han Yu walked away, the weight of the gold in his pocket and the pouch of chaotic pills bouncing against his hip, he felt something strange:

Hope.

Maybe things were finally looking up.

And if they weren’t—well, he had flashbang pills, floating pills, and judgmental geese on his side.