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

"You're really all going…" he said, glancing from face to face.

Han Yu stepped forward, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your time will come. For now, you focus on your training and taking care of the sect."

Fatty Kui Two nodded vigorously. "I brought some talismans I bought with my merit points. You might laugh, but… they're supposed to ward off bad luck." He handed over three flimsy charm slips, the edges singed from clumsy handling.

Fatty Kui One and Wu Shuan immediately grabbed theirs with dramatic flourishes, holding them over their heads like sacred banners.

"No one's laughing," Han Yu said, tucking his into his pouch with quiet gratitude. "Thank you."

The mood remained light, none of them willing to give in to anxious talk. Saying too much about fear or danger would only sour the moment—and maybe even bring misfortune. Better to laugh, to joke, to charge ahead like fate had already been decided.

Then, just as Han Yu was turning toward the formation zone again, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

"So you were going to leave without saying goodbye?"

Han Yu turned.

There she was—Li Mei—standing with arms crossed just past a line of alchemy carts, her robes crisp and her hair tied up in a neat bun, a medicinal satchel strapped to her hip.

"Of course not," Han Yu replied with a sheepish grin. "I saw your name under the logistics division—they've assigned you to the internal compound's pill refinery team. So I knew you'd be here today."

She walked up and thwacked him lightly on the chest with the back of her hand. "Still. You could've come found me earlier. We could've had some tea, maybe talked about how not to die."

Han Yu smirked. "Wouldn't that jinx it?"

Li Mei raised a brow but didn't deny it.

Instead, she looked at him more seriously. "Be careful. The Southern Marshes aren't like the Forests or wastelands you've been too. The terrain is unstable. There are ruins there older than any sect in the region. And you know what that means."

"Great danger. Great opportunity." Han Yu nodded.

"And great risk of being melted into a bone puddle," Li Mei muttered. Then, a little softer, "Come back alive. That's not a joke."

"I will." His voice was steady. "I still owe you a spirit root-cleansing recipe."

"Hmph. You better come back with two, now."

Before Han Yu could respond, another presence quietly approached, the surrounding disciples parting to let her through.

Tall, serene, and now visibly healed—Senior Sister Xuan Qing stepped into view.

Gone were the heavy bandages and strained posture from before. Her movements were fluid, the scar that once cut across her shoulder now faded into a silvery line. She wore the emblem of the Twin Leaf Peak Inner Court Hall, her long hair tied into a high loop behind her neck.

"Junior Brother Han," she said, her voice smooth, almost unreadable. "You're heading to the marsh as well?"

Han Yu blinked, surprised but pleasantly so. "I am. I couldn't miss a chance like this to contribute."

Xuan Qing studied him for a long moment, then gave a nod of approval. "I'm… a bit proud of you. To think, the little servant boy who used to run errands in silence is now marching on expedition with the sect."

Han Yu rubbed the back of his head, only mildly embarrassed. "I'm just doing what I can."

Her gaze sharpened slightly. "Then make sure you do it well. But don't get cocky. This isn't a mission—it's a crucible. More than a few sects would love to see our people weakened. If things turn political, or bloody… survive first. Prove your worth after."

Han Yu nodded.

"Understood."

She gave a small, rare smile before stepping back. "Good. I'll be watching."

The time was nearly upon them.

Horn calls echoed from the Grand Pavilion, the signal for deployment.

Disciples began lining up, division leaders barking orders and confirming identities. The first wave would begin its journey south in a staggered fashion, keeping their formations tight but mobile.

Han Yu turned back to his friends.

Fatty Kui gave him a solid thumbs-up.

Wu Shuan nodded once, sharply.

Fatty Kui Two grinned and saluted with two fingers.

Li Mei waved her hand, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk. "Don't let your cauldron explode."

Xuan Qing was already striding away with her division, her silver inner robe glinting like a sword's edge under the cloudy sky.

Han Yu took a deep breath and stepped into the marching line of Alchemy Peak's logistics unit.

The road to the Southern Marshes had begun.

The sun had barely risen above the Twin Leaf Mountains when the drums of departure began to thunder.

The sect's gates, wide and imposing, were thrown open. From them surged a tidal procession of cultivators—nearly fifty thousand strong, an awe-inspiring sight of flowing robes, gleaming weapons, and resonating Qi.

This was not a simple mission, not a border patrol, not even a subjugation force—this was a full-scale expedition, and it carried the weight and pride of the Twin Leaf Peak Sect upon its shoulders.

Disciples formed neat, precise formations under banners that fluttered with each peak's emblem.

Outer Court disciples walked in the outer flanks, armored and disciplined. Inner Court disciples followed, carrying heavier gear and instruments, their cultivation a notch higher, their expressions more solemn.

Core disciples strode closer to the heart of the group, every one of them a rare genius with an aura that swayed the wind.

And at the very front—his sword sheathed across his back and his presence as sharp as a thunderstorm held at bay—was none other than Peak Head Jian Wuhen of Sword Peak.

With a tall, broad frame clad in black and white martial robes embroidered with golden sword threads, he exuded a presence so focused it silenced even the loudest conversations.

Wherever his gaze landed, disciples unconsciously straightened their backs. He was the kind of man who didn't need to speak often to be obeyed. His footsteps led the march, and the Earth itself seemed to ring with each pace.