Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time

With a hum, golden scrolls of light unfolded above each desk, solidifying into a shimmering script projected mid-air. Han Yu looked up.

Immediately, he recognized the structure.

Section One: Herb Identification and Classification.

Section Two: Medicinal Interactions and Contraindications.

Section Three: Simulated Pill Composition Based on Symptoms.

Section Four: Alchemical Failure Analysis.

And finally, Section Five: Advanced Theory and Multistep Formula Adaptation.

Li Mei had only shown the last section alone to him twice—and even then, only as examples. It wasn't meant for outer court disciples. Even in the test, the last one was a filter. It was meant to separate the wheat from the chaff.

To see who truly managed to stand out.

Han Yu's lips curled slightly.

'Looks like they're serious.'

He dipped the bamboo brush into black ink and began writing.

His movements were calm. Efficient.

Question after question flew under his fingers. He visualized plants, rebalanced formulas in his mind, recalled heat timings for complex combinations. He analyzed ash samples and inferred what mistake a hypothetical alchemist might have made in a six-herb blend involving Coldroot, Dewlight Moss, and Flame Orchid.

Time passed.

The other disciples began sweating. A few looked overwhelmed by Section Four, and by Section Five, even the confident ones were frowning.

Han Yu?

He just kept writing.

He wasn't fast—but he was steady. He didn't know everything, but what he did know, he answered with clarity and calmness.

Outside the hall, Li Mei leaned against a herb-laced railing, gazing up at the soft rise of the Alchemy Peak.

She was nervous.

Not for him, oddly. She already knew he'd pass.

She was nervous because she didn't know just how high he'd score.

Would he pass quietly?

Or would he pass loudly enough to catch an elder's eye?

Because if he did…

Then everything would change.

A while later...

The moment the final stroke of Han Yu's brush left the floating scroll, a soft chime echoed throughout the Testing Hall. The papers seemingly evaporated into motes of light, pulled toward the glowing orb at the center of the room.

All around him, the other disciples leaned back in their chairs, some groaning in frustration, others letting out shallow sighs of relief. Tension lingered in the air like incense smoke—unspoken, oppressive.

Han Yu exhaled quietly and folded his hands.

He had done all he could.

Moments later, the array in the center orb flared to life once more, this time displaying a spinning formation of numbers above it. The golden runes danced midair before slowly crystallizing into a row of glowing digits.

Twenty numbers.

Names were not shown—just identity tokens. But everyone could recognize their own.

Han Yu's eyes flicked toward the sixth number on the list—his token's registration digits. No mistake.

He had passed the first stage.

A voice, serene and toneless, echoed from the orb:

"Preliminary results calculated. All examinees not listed in the displayed numbers are to leave the hall. You have failed the first stage. Better luck next time."

Disappointment bloomed like ripples on a pond. Chairs scraped. Several disciples got up with slumped shoulders and left the hall one by one, some mumbling softly, others cursing under their breath. More than half of the original candidates—gone in the blink of an eye.

Of the fifty that had entered, only twenty remained.

But the air among them wasn't one of relief—it was one of anxiety.

A thin Inner Court disciple near Han Yu rubbed his temples and whispered, "T-This is the fourth time I've gotten through. Gods help me this time..."

Another, a girl with ink stains on her sleeves, bit her lip and muttered, "I reached the second round once… but I couldn't get past the oral defense. I forgot the balancing ratios for triple-petal Nightroot…"

Whispers spread like a quiet plague of nerves.

Only two others, aside from Han Yu, remained calm—two Inner Court disciples dressed in neatly pressed robes and bearing the silver-tinted outer trim that marked them as Core Formation cultivators. Han Yu had seen their types before—talented combat cultivators trying their hand at alchemy to expand their skills or increase their value to the sect.

They had strong cultivations, and their stability gave them confidence. Still, even they showed some tension beneath the surface.

Han Yu, by contrast, was relaxed.

He was curious, yes. But he wasn't anxious.

The test was what it was. He did his best. If he failed, he'd just try again. This was his first attempt anyways.

What he truly wanted now were the full results.

The current score display was merely the automated portion—the baseline grade measured by the Alchemy Peak's Testing Array, which could identify key terms, diagrams, and base logic in an answer. It could filter out blatant failures and give rough grades.

But the true weight, the subjective interpretation of one's insight, creativity, and medicinal reasoning? That needed to be judged by living elders. Thе full sеriеs is hоstеd оn Мy Virtuаl Librаry Еmpirе, knоwn аs МV7LЕМРYR.

That would take more time.

Inside a side chamber near the top of the Testing Hall, two junior elders sat at a long wood table.

One was Elder Zhou—an older man with a long beard and hawk-like eyes, his spiritual robes marked with faint yellow rune-lines denoting his rank. The other was Elder Xuan, a plump woman with small round spectacles perched on her nose, flipping through scrolls with bored fingers.

Between them floated a glowing projection of the scrolls turned in during the test.

They had already gone through eleven of them. Some were above average, some acceptable, and some absolutely hopeless.

"…Candidate 009—solid herb balancing, but clumsy with flame dynamics. Their answer on Dewlight Orchid usage was… well, tragic," Elder Zhou muttered.

Elder Xuan snorted. "They actually said it can cool a Fireroot base directly. That's a death wish. Moving on."

The two reached candidate 012. They scrolled through it in silence for a while.

Zhou shrugged. "Reasonable logic. Good enough for an intern assistant rank."

"Still made three classification mistakes on water-based stabilizers. Next."

Then came the next entry: Candidate 018. Han Yu