Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 205: Heading Out For The Toughest Mission Yet

In his modest quarters, Han Yu examined his bag of supplies: a few formation flags, a token from Li Mei for emergency help (which may or may not work in Mist Eye territory), a backup robe, Several bottles of pills from Li Mei, a bunch of talismans and a small jar of spirit nut butter for emergencies along with more snacks and rations.

He had no idea what forces were already coiling in the shadows.

All he knew was that tomorrow, he’d be stepping into the jaws of the Mist Eye Sect’s wild frontier with an illusory peak cultivation and a bag full of questionable snacks.

He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath.

"Alright, Han Yu," he muttered. "Time to fake it... and somehow not die."

Morning had barely stretched its golden fingers over Twin Leaf Peak when Han Yu stood at the outer courtyard, his travel pack strapped tight and his robe freshly laundered—though the right sleeve had a suspicious tea stain that even spirit detergent couldn’t purge (it had come from one of the suspicious teas Li Mei had made for him as recovery medicine a day ago).

The air was crisp, cool with the faint scent of pine and dew. It was too peaceful for what felt like a march into peril.

He looked behind him one last time.

They had gathered.

Li Mei stood with her arms crossed, wearing her usual alchemist robes stained with a fresh mark of what might’ve been "Pill Test #43, Highly Flammable". Her sharp eyes were unusually soft.

"You better come back in one piece," she said. "I still have four more pills that require a semi-functional body."

Han Yu grinned. "You’re only saying that because no one else is reckless enough to test them."

Li Mei didn’t deny it. "Also, don’t forget to activate the emergency talisman if something goes wrong. I had to spend three favors to get that."

"Understood, Commander Alchemist." He gave her a cheeky salute.

Next were Fatty Kui 1 and Fatty Kui 2, whose actual names had long since been forgotten, even by themselves. The rotund duo stood side by side, each holding a massive roasted chicken leg like it was a divine artifact.

"You sure you don’t wanna borrow Kui 2’s spare belly armor?" Kui 1 asked.

Han Yu raised an eyebrow. "That’s... actually a thing?"

"It’s made from Spirit Beast hide," Kui 2 chimed in, patting his belly affectionately. "Extra springy and marinated for emergencies."

"I’ll pass," Han Yu said. "But thanks, truly. You two have been great."

Kui 1 sniffled. "If you die, can we have your pillow collection?"

"Only if you cry at my funeral," Han Yu replied with a laugh.

Both nodded solemnly.

Then came Wu Shuan, tall and composed, with his hair tied neatly and hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed like he was about to attend a strategy meeting rather than a goodbye.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Wu Shuan said.

Han Yu gave a light chuckle. "You think everything is a bad idea."

"Yes," Wu said, nodding. "Because everything you do is a bad idea."

There was a moment of silence.

Then, Wu sighed. "Still... you’ve done well. You’ve grown faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Just don’t be foolish. If it becomes too dangerous, run. Honor is for dead heroes."

Han Yu grinned. "I’ll try. But if I do die, please forge a tale where I took down five Mist Eye Elders and seduced their sect heiress before collapsing in a blaze of glory."

Wu Shuan smirked faintly. "I’ll commission the scroll myself."

Han Yu stepped forward, standing at the path that led down the mountain, toward the lower valley trails that connected to the Ravine Road.

He turned around one last time.

Li Mei gave him a nod, already pulling out a notebook—probably jotting down ideas for the next pill based on how much she’d miss yelling at him.

Fatty Kui 1 and 2 were waving chicken bones like flags.

Wu Shuan simply stood there, still, but watching.

Han Yu bowed.

Then he turned, his expression hardening. With the illusion pill still in effect, his aura radiated the strength of a Peak Qi Refining disciple.

But in truth, it was grit, boldness, and a hefty bit of idiocy holding him up.

He walked down the mountain trail.

The leaves whispered above him.

The wind rustled as if murmuring farewells.

And the rising sun behind him cast his shadow long and alone.

Toward the Broken Fang Ravine he went.

Toward danger.

Toward secrets.

Toward whatever lay beyond the Slumbering Caldera.

The journey took ten long days.

Han Yu had expected hardship, but by the seventh day, his legs threatened mutiny. The illusion pill had long since faded away, no longer projecting the image of a Peak Qi Refining disciple, and did nothing for sore feet or tent-related incompetence.

Finally, on the tenth morning, he reached the jagged cliffs marking the edge of the Broken Fang Ravine.

The same place he had visited before.

He stood at the overlook where he, Fatty Kui 1, and Wu Shuan had once squatted nervously, peering down into the abyss like chicken-hearted explorers daring the void to blink first.

Back then, he had felt ill-equipped.

Now?

Well, now he was equally ill-equipped, just bolder about it.

Han Yu crouched low among the thorned brush that dotted the ridge and pulled out a compact monocular—a gift from Kui 2, who had insisted on calling it the "Long Eye of Heavenly Precision," though it was clearly just made from two polished lenses tied together with an old copper tube that may or may not have been stolen from the bathrooms.

He scanned the cliffs, ledges, and shattered rock paths for any Mist Eye Sect patrols.

Nothing.

No flicker of movement, no trace of footsteps, no fluttering robes of arrogant inquisitors. Just the whistling of wind as it danced between the cracked stone faces of the ravine.

Han Yu exhaled slowly.