Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 182: Escaping An Encirclement

Han Yu eyed the area again.

The air shimmered behind the Mist Eye disciples, but not around them. ’They’re at the formation’s anchor point...’

While Han Yu had not learned formations properly yet, being with Li Mei and doing some chores during his Servant Days had at least made him learn the basics.

He knew all formations had nodes, one of which would be the center of it. The anchor point.

"If we can break through that group, maybe we can disrupt the illusion."

"With one of us half-dead?" Wu Shuan said with a grimace.

"With all of us angry," Han Yu corrected. "That counts for something."

"Anger isn’t a plan!" Fatty Kui hissed.

"It is today!"

The Mist Eye disciples began to fan out, circling them with eerie grace. Their movements barely disturbed the mist. The air was thick with tension—and blood.

Han Yu lowered into the Ironwood Stance, qi pulsing through his legs and arms. Spirit qi danced faintly across his arm as he prepared the Bolt God technique again.

"I’ll go first. Try to follow my lead."

"Try not to get turned into a meat piñata," Fatty Kui muttered, standing beside him with surprising resolve.

Wu Shuan took a deep breath and drew his weapon again, despite the pain. "One formation anchor. One exit."

Han Yu exhaled, fist glowing.

Let’s punch our way out.

The battle exploded into chaos.

Mist surged around them, and the Mist Eye Sect disciples became moving shadows—silent, swift, and deadly. Their movements were fluid, ghostlike, appearing and vanishing with the curl of fog. Dagger-like weapons flickered from their sleeves, and faint glimmers shimmered in their eyes.

Wu Shuan clashed with one of them, steel ringing against steel. His injured leg slowed him, and he barely avoided a follow-up slash that would’ve opened his throat.

Fatty Kui roared, arms raised like a berserker, charging into another disciple—but his opponent danced around him, delivering precise, cutting blows to the fatty’s arms and legs, drawing blood with each flick of their curved blade.

Han Yu parried a strike with his forearm and retaliated with a quick jab, only to find the enemy had already melted away.

Then it hit.

An Eye Skill.

One of the disciples locked gazes with Han Yu—and his entire body froze.

His muscles clenched. His limbs turned to stone. His thoughts, once racing, now crawled through molasses.

All sound faded into a dull hum.

He saw the enemy approach, walking calmly now that his prey was paralyzed. Behind Han Yu, he heard Wu Shuan scream in pain—struck again. Fatty Kui had fallen to one knee, snarling, but unmoving. Even the mist felt heavier.

No... I can’t move... I can’t even think straight...

But then—

A memory surfaced.

The rich, deep soul energy within him stirred—softly, like the echo of footsteps through a forgotten corridor. It wasn’t a word or an image... it was a feeling.

"Break the skill."

Han Yu focused inward.

He activated Memory Echo—his defensive soul skill.

A pulse of soul power flowed from his core. Everything around him shuddered, just slightly. Like static being cleared from a screen, the world sharpened, and the Eye Skill cracked like breaking glass.

The illusion shattered.

Han Yu could move again—but he didn’t.

Not yet.

The enemy was too close now. Almost within striking range. Two more were flanking him, closing in with cold smiles on their faces.

He narrowed his eyes and focused his soul energy.

"Now."

Soul Needle.

The air around his head pulsed once.

The approaching disciples froze mid-step—staggering as if invisible spikes had pierced their thoughts. Their eyes went blank. Their balance faltered. One of them even dropped his weapon.

Three seconds. That was all Han Yu needed.

With a roar, he surged forward.

Qi flooded into his arm. frёewebnoѵēl.com

Bolt God Fist!

His right arm crackled like a thundercloud in midsummer, and spirit qi coiled down his forearm like a living thing. His fist struck the chest of the lead disciple—exploding it like brittle wood.

The man’s body flew back, lifeless, blood spilling from the crater in his chest.

Han Yu pivoted mid-strike, his second punch slamming into the gut of another disciple, sending him skidding across the ground with broken ribs. The third tried to backpedal—but Han Yu’s foot lashed out in a kick, cracking his shoulder and flipping him headfirst into a rock.

Two of the three were still breathing—but only just.

The battlefield froze again.

The remaining Mist Eye Sect disciples stared in shock.

Sevearl wisps of Eight Emotions Energy drifted over from the disciples that Han Yu absorbed without paying much attention. He did not have the time to spare after all.

"What... what was that?!"

"He broke the Locking Eye Technique?! But how?!"

Han Yu straightened, his chest rising and falling. His Ironwood Stance shimmered faintly on his skin. His fist was still glowing with static.

"You messed with the wrong disciple," he muttered, more to himself than them.

"YOU—" one of the disciples began to shout, but then a blur of motion cut him off.

Wu Shuan had broken free of the Locking Eye Skill the moment it collapsed—his sword gleamed in the faint light of the ravine, and with one clean strike, he slashed open the neck of the distracted disciple.

Blood sprayed in an arc, and the disciple collapsed, gasping.

Before anyone could react, Fatty Kui charged like a spiritual ox.

"MY ARM STILL HURTS!" he howled.

The remaining disciple barely had time to raise his hands before Fatty slammed into him with a meaty shoulder. The man flew back like a sack of radishes and hit a tree with a sickening crunch.

Then, in an awkward but horrifying move, Fatty jumped on the dazed disciple and began bashing his head with both fists, roaring.

"STAB ME FROM THE BUSHES, WILL YOU?! I’LL STAB BACK WITH KNUCKLES!"

Han Yu blinked. "Okay, that’s new."

Wu Shuan wiped blood from his lip and nodded. "Remind me to never steal food from him."

Now only two were left.

The veiled woman who had spoken before.

And one last disciple, pale with fear, his hands trembling.

The woman’s serene expression was gone.

More Eight Emotions Energy wisps rose from her a mix of grey surprise and violet fear.

She took a step back. "This... wasn’t supposed to happen."