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

Han Yu was at the Alchemy Peak's Pill refinement pavilion area, carefully organizing a new batch of healing and recovery pills that had been specially ordered for returning disciples.

The outer court was abuzz with movement, with injured inner court disciples returning from sudden recall orders, some limping, others just drained of energy and composure.

That was when he saw her.

At first, he almost didn't recognize her.

Xuan Qing.

The same Senior Sister who had basically kidnapped him over three years ago from a tavern in his hometown. Back when he was nothing more than a weak but smart boy hiding secrets in his sleeves or just cards.

Now, she looked… well, not injured, but clearly exhausted.

Her usually immaculate robes were wrinkled and travel-stained, her long hair slightly disheveled, and her pale skin lacked its usual healthy glow.

She was standing to the side of the pavilion, a scroll in hand and waiting for someone to process her request when her eyes casually swept the hall—only to pause.

And then narrow.

Then widen.

"…Han Yu?"

Han Yu turned from the shelves with a tray of jade bottles in his hand and blinked in mild surprise. It had taken him a second too, but now that she said it, he grinned.

"Senior Sister Xuan Qing?" he said with a polite bow, lips twitching upward. "It's been a while. I was wondering if I'd ever see you again—or if Brother Sun finally wore you down."

Her lips parted for a moment in disbelief, and then she laughed, the sound tired but genuine.

"So it's true. I heard a little whisper that someone by your name was stirring up the Alchemy Peak… I thought it couldn't be that Han Yu." She gave him an up-and-down look almost not believing it was the same child she had brought back in a few years ago. "Look at you. Robes of the peak, merit token hanging like you own the place. You even smell like spirit herbs."

"It's the cologne of poverty," Han Yu replied solemnly. "Infused by hours of pill-furnace sweating."

Xuan Qing chuckled again, but her posture didn't fully relax. Up close, Han Yu could now see the faint rings under her eyes and the stiffness in her shoulders. It was a soldier's posture, someone who had just come back from a real mission, not some routine scouting job.

"You don't look too good," Han Yu said more gently. "Did something happen?"

She hesitated, glancing around. "Not something we're allowed to talk about openly. But… you're not wrong to feel the change in the air."

"So there is something going on," Han Yu murmured.

Her eyes flicked to the jade bottles he carried. "You're making recovery pills for the returnees?"

"High purity Flesh Mending and Spirit Rejuvenation pills," Han Yu confirmed. "Custom batch. I heard some inner court disciples were coming back in a hurry. Guess you were one of them?"

She smiled bitterly. "Sort of. I volunteered for a mission to avoid Brother Sun's… dinner invitation. Turns out, that dinner might've been safer than the swamp we ended up in."

"Marshes of the south?"

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

Han Yu frowned. "Were there… losses?"

Xuan Qing didn't reply right away. Then, in a voice barely audible, she said, "Three from our squad didn't return. Two more were poisoned and unconscious for days. I only got back this morning."

Han Yu handed her one of the jade bottles. "Here. Spirit Rejuvenation. I've added a bit of Frost Mallow extract to help with fatigue."

She took it without hesitation, staring at the pill for a second before letting out a breath.

"I used to think you were a little weasel with a quick tongue," she said softly. "Now you're an alchemist with a spine. Who knew?"

Han Yu gave her a slow grin. "Some people grow herbs. I grow on people."

The shift in the wind was more than apparent now.

Their reunion was brief—Xuan Qing had to go report her mission and rest, while Han Yu still had more deliveries to make. But something about seeing her again, her condition, and the things she didn't say confirmed what Han Yu had already suspected.

Plus she didn't scold him or even ask him much about him. There was an urgency behind her eyes that told Han Yu...

The peace was ending.

And it wasn't just a vague shift in atmosphere anymore—it was starting to arrive in the form of scars, empty beds in the inner court, and the increasingly grim expressions of returning disciples.

The Marshes of the South, long thought to be dormant, were stirring.

And Han Yu, whether he liked it or not, would soon find himself entangled in it all.

But for now, he would continue as he always had—making pills, gathering strength, and preparing for a future only he could see.

The storm hadn't hit yet.

But it was coming.

Rumors, like wildfire, had a way of spreading quickly in a place like the Twin Leaf Peak Sect.

At first, Han Yu barely paid them any mind. Disciples were always whispering about some "ancient inheritance" or "immortal cave dwelling" found in the outer realms. These things stirred excitement, but more often than not, they turned out to be illusions, misinterpretations, or outright fabrications spun by bored cultivators.

But this time… the air felt different.

The whispers weren't just limited to sect kitchens and outer sect courtyards. He heard snatches of it from inner court disciples, caught mentions even from the mouths of passing elders, murmuring in the distance.

Some of the alchemists who came to order healing pills talked about how recovery salves and emergency healing brews were being commissioned in bulk, intended not for the sect, but for expeditions.

Then, even the wandering merchants outside the sect's wards began talking about it.

"A tomb," they whispered. "South of the river bend, hidden deep in the Marshes of the South. Older than the dynasties. Buried in silence. And guarded by death."

It was too widespread to be coincidence.