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

Han Yu lounged lazily beneath the shade of the lone plum blossom tree in the corner of his courtyard, a rare moment of peace gracing his normally packed schedule.

It was now close to the end of spring and yet the spring breeze fluttered gently across his face. And for once, he allowed himself to relax. No pill flames burning, no disciples groveling for tutoring, and—thank the heavens—no long lectures from Gai Qing that day.

Sitting on a flat stone, he tossed a peanut into the air.

A blur of brown fur darted forward as Chitterfang leapt, snatching the peanut mid-air with perfect precision before landing and chewing triumphantly. Han Yu grinned.

"Nice catch. Let's up the game."

He flicked another peanut upward, but this time guided it with a tiny twist of his spirit qi. The peanut curved mid-air like a lazy comet, and Chitterfang still caught it without missing a beat.

Han Yu nodded to himself. This wasn't just a game. It was training. Not for Chitterfang—but for him.

Each toss was a micro-exercise in qi control, pushing him to thread just the right amount of force and direction into an object without wasting excess energy. In pill refining, especially with delicate ingredients, waste could mean failure. This was his way of mastering subtlety, efficiency, and refinement.

"Let's see if I can bank it off that rock," he muttered, sending a peanut whirling into a curve that spun around the tree trunk before arcing toward Chitterfang. The rat general leapt again, tiny claws scraping the air as he snagged it effortlessly.

Han Yu clapped once. "Perfect!"

But before he could toss another, Chitterfang froze mid-chew.

Han Yu's smile faltered.

The rat's ears perked up, swiveling sharply. He sniffed the air, his whiskers twitching in concentration. Then, like a phantom, he vanished into the ground with a ripple in dirt and soil.

Han Yu blinked.

"…Okay, that's never a good sign."

Two minutes later, Chitterfang reemerged, dusting himself off and holding something between his teeth.

It was a tightly wound miniature scroll, barely the length of a finger. Han Yu accepted it with a furrowed brow, recognizing it as one of the covert reports he'd instructed the Rats to collect long ago. Back when Murong Xie had first made his move, Han Yu had secretly commissioned Chitterfang's network to monitor any whispers about him.

Even after Murong's downfall, he hadn't canceled the directive—just in case.

Until now, they had only reported idle chatter or praise. But today… something had changed.

Han Yu unrolled the scroll with care and read its contents. His relaxed expression slowly darkened.

It was a brief, condensed report—the rats didn't waste words:

"Multiple senior alchemists displeased.

Source: Alchemy Peak inner court discussion rooms.

Topics: Private tutoring sessions. Disruption of market price.

Cause: Loss of income. Disciples opting out of standard lessons.

Tone: Hostile.

Recommended action: Monitor further. Potential pressure on elders."

Han Yu clicked his tongue and exhaled through his nose.

"So they're upset I'm too cheap, huh?"

Chitterfang squeaked once, then pulled a cracked peanut from his pouch like a consolation snack.

Han Yu stared at the scroll again, re-reading the lines. He knew well enough that in cultivation sects, strength and talent mattered—but politics and reputation mattered just as much.

While he hadn't broken any formal rules, the reality was clear: he was undercutting the market. Other alchemists charged exorbitantly for their time—especially the more experienced ones—and many disciples paid only because they had no better option.

Han Yu's rates were affordable, his teaching style approachable, and his results excellent. That combination had swayed many outer court disciples. Even some inner court ones had begun to seek him out, if discreetly.

It was no wonder the other alchemists were upset.

"It's always about profit," he muttered. "In a mountain full of pill-crafters, I'm the one stirring the pot just by doing a better job."

He stood, brushing dust from his robes.

"No laws broken. No accusations. Just… silent pressure."

Han Yu wasn't foolish enough to believe they'd try something direct.

Not yet.

But pressure came in many forms—discrediting his work, filing complaints to elders, blocking his access to certain pill formulas, maybe even leaning on his students. It wouldn't be hard to make things difficult for him without ever laying a finger on him.

Chitterfang chittered, snapping Han Yu's thoughts.

"I know," Han Yu said. "No need to panic yet. But keep listening."

He tapped the rat general's head gently. "Tell the others to pay close attention to the inner court meeting halls and any mention of my name. If anyone starts preparing a formal complaint or building support for one, I want to know immediately."

Chitterfang saluted with a paw and vanished again into the earth to go and report his orders to the rat council.

Han Yu folded the scroll and tucked it into his sleeve.

He sighed and looked up at the sky. Clouds were drifting in, soft and grey, dimming the golden light of afternoon.

"I was planning to take the day off," he muttered. "Looks like the sect had other plans."

Still, Han Yu didn't feel angry. If anything, he felt more alert.

He had known from the start that gaining influence would draw eyes—some admiring, others envious. Even Junior Elder Xuan and Zhou had warned him the same the day he had joined. Li Mei had done the same several times, telling him that while talent was good, it also drew the ire of those less talented than you.

He'd walked this kind of tightrope before, just in the slums of a mortal town. Now it was just in a fancier robe, in a prettier place, with bigger stakes.

"Fine," he said, cracking his knuckles. "If they want to make this a game of pressure, then let's play. But they'd better be ready to lose profit and face."

With that, he turned and went back inside to make some plans—maybe a few strategic "donations" to students in high places, maybe a few high-purity pills he could offer to instructors who'd vouch for him.

One thing was certain:

Han Yu wasn't backing down.