Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 116: Blood and Realization

After Li Mei visited Han Yu, she very graciously allowed him to rest for a few more hours, which Han Yu was very grateful for. He knew he needed it, and so did she. After all, Han Yu intended to go to the underground arena once more tonight.

The temptation of gold was simply too much for his greedy heart to resist.

As such, he slept till late afternoon and visited Li Mei for his ’special tools’ and then left for the arena at night.

The underground arena was colder tonight. Not just in temperature—but in spirit.

Han Yu stood in the preparation area, still holding the small pouch Li Mei had handed him earlier that day. It clinked with half a dozen new "throwing pills," all marked with unreadable, chaotic scribbles.

He was still sore from the last match. Still hadn’t fully recovered. Still had doubts.

But gold coins were gold coins.

He cracked open the pouch and pulled out a pale blue pill that shimmered faintly. "Please don’t turn someone into a frog," he whispered, slipping it into his sleeve. If they really turned someone into a frog, he didn’t know how he would explain that.

The announcer’s voice echoed through the stone corridors.

"Tonight! The challenger: Han Yu, the Sock Stealer, the Goose Fist, the Exploding Apothecary!"

Cheers, laughter, a few jeers.

"And his opponent—Iron Fang Mo, Zhou Kingdom’s rogue cultivator and early Qi Refining realm!"

Han Yu blinked.

"...Wait. What?"

The name echoed again.

"Early Qi Refining."

He turned to one of the masked organizers.

"You—you’ve got to be kidding. He’s in Qi Refining. I’m still at Body Tempering. That’s not a fight, that’s a public execution."

The masked man didn’t even look at him. "You entered the ring. You knew the risks."

"I thought the worst that would happen was maybe a missing tooth or a cracked rib, not being spiritually eviscerated! That guy’s got a cultivation base!"

"Nothing here is fair," the man said calmly. "You want to walk? You’ll need to fight to leave."

Han Yu’s heart sank. He regretted everything, but it was far too late. He even thought of running away, but a strict cordon was set around the area. There weren’t just armed guards standing, but even a formation array that prevented unauthorized entry and exit.

Until the fights ended today, no one would be leaving or entering without permission.

GONG

The gong rang.

Han Yu was shoved into the ring finally coming face to face with his new opponent.

Iron Fang Mo stood shirtless, arms crossed, with black tattoos creeping up his neck and down his arms. His eyes were cold, dead things—eyes that had seen people die and hadn’t blinked.

"You look like you haven’t even finished drinking your mother’s milk," Mo said with a cruel grin. "They sent a rat to fight a wolf?"

Han Yu’s hands trembled as he stepped onto the bloodstained stone.

"Alright," he whispered to himself. "No jokes. No mercy. Survive."

The fight began.

Mo moved like lightning, his palm glowing with spiritual light. A Qi-enhanced strike aimed straight for Han Yu’s chest.

Han Yu barely rolled to the side—still felt the force graze his ribs like a hammer.

CRACK!

"AUGH!" He wheezed.

Two ribs. Gone. Great start.

Mo advanced again, his aura pressing down like a storm. He threw a leg sweep, then an elbow. Han Yu dodged left, ducked, and—

SLASH!

"ARGH!" Han Yu screamed in pain.

His arm split open from a hidden blade in Mo’s bracer. Blood poured freely. Pain flared white-hot.

"Scared yet?" Mo hissed.

Han Yu panted, backing up. His vision blurred. The arena echoed with gasps and murmurs. His thoughts raced.

’I can’t beat him head-on. He’ll kill me. I’ll die here, and nobody will even find my body...’

His fingers fumbled into his sleeve, found the cold round shape.

’One chance.’ Han Yu thought, narrowing his eyes and steeling his resolve.

He flung the blue pill directly at Mo’s face. He didn’t know what it could do, but Li Mei had assured him it could even knock out an Outer Court Disciple.

BANG

It exploded with a shriek like a dying phoenix. Light flashed. Mo screamed.

Han Yu didn’t wait. He charged in—fists clenched, full-body momentum—and headbutted the man in the nose.

CRACK!

Blood sprayed. Mo reeled back.

Han Yu roared and unleashed a flurry of punches—nothing refined, nothing elegant, just rage and fear and willpower.

He couldn’t afford to stand still for long enough to use the Bolt God Fist, and get countered thus, did what he could for now. Pure unadulterated power of muscles amplified by Vital Energy!

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Then a final kick to the knee.

CRACK.

Mo collapsed.

The crowd was silent.

Then a slow, horrified cheer.

"WINNER... HAN YU!"

Han Yu looked at the aftermath of what he had done, his heat throbbing like crazy. The next few minutes went like a blur. He was handed a bunch of coins in a closed pouch and some people talked to him, but he barely realized what was even spoken.

Not that any of it mattered to him right now.

And before he realized it Han Yu was sitting alone in the locker room, shirt soaked in blood—some his, some not. His knuckles were raw. His arm was still bleeding.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke.

He stared at the wall, breathing slow and shallow.

"I almost died," he whispered.

He could still feel Mo’s spiritual pressure. Still see the cold look in those eyes. Still smell the blood, hear the crack of his ribs, feel the void where his confidence used to be.

This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t funny.

This was the real world of cultivation.

People didn’t just spar here. They killed.

And he wasn’t ready.

He left the underground ring in silence. No witty comments. No joy from the coins he had just won. Just the haunting echo of a man who had stared into death’s open mouth—and had just barely backed out.