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

Han Yu, meanwhile, walked somewhere near the mid-rear of the massive formation, among the Alchemy Division's logistics group. His newly issued robes were dyed pale green, the mark of the Support Division, and his pack was full of vital pill samples, alchemical ingredients, and brewing tools.

He was even given an entire set of alchemical tools, cauldron, talismans, measuring equipment and more to boot. It was clear that the sect was sparing no expense in this expedition.

Still, as mundane as his current duties seemed, his ears remained sharp—and so did his network.

"—Did you see that Inner Court girl from Cauldron Hall? I heard she once cured a Core Disciple with a single drop of liquid from her jade gourd—"

"—They say if anything goes wrong, Peak Head Jian can cut a mountain in half. Literally. Not even a metaphor—"

"—Hah! No way that's all. My cousin swears he saw an elder talking to someone in a tiger mask. Probably an undercover protector—"

Han Yu had been quietly gathering information ever since the journey began.

His secret weapon: Chitterfang, the small, intelligent rat that he had made a true beast taming contract with him just before leaving for the mission.

Han Yu had obtained the manual on how to do it from the library for basically free and then done it with ease.

The process had been easier than he had thought, needing just a drop of his blood and the willingness of the beast. Chitterfang, having already become close friends with Han Yu was more than willing to do it.

The little fellow was currently riding on a covered herbal cart two units ahead, masked by a illusion talisman wrapped around him like a sash and well-fed with spirit berries.

Han Yu didn't need to speak aloud. With the mental tether between them, Chitterfang could project short bursts of thought directly to his mind.

"Chhh! Lots of noise. Smelly humans love secrets."

Han Yu smirked slightly as he heard the creature's voice within.

'This is so much easier than letting them translate it into tiny scrolls. I should've done this ages ago.' Han Yu thought to himself.

"Confirmed. There are three Peak Heads in this march. Not just sword-man. Hiding. Hiding well."

Han Yu blinked.

Three?

"Who are the others?" he whispered internally.

"Spear. Beast. Came quietly. No fanfare. Elders pretend not to see."

Han Yu's thoughts narrowed.

Sword Peak's Peak Head made sense—he was leading. But Spear Peak? That was a power rivaling Sword Peak in many ways. And Beast Peak… that was unexpected.

"Beast Peak? Isn't that… the weakest peak?" Han Yu mused to himself.

"Weak name. Not weak man. Big beasts. Big, big beasts. One smells like molten stone. Another like frozen thunder."

That caught Han Yu's attention.

The Peak Head of the Beast Peak was someone he knew almost nothing about.

In fact, most disciples didn't. They kept to themselves, seldom appearing during sect events, rarely participating in tournaments.

Their disciples mostly worked in the background—raising spirit beasts, supplying materials to Alchemy Peak and Armament Peak, and tending to beast farms deep within the sect's outer mountains.

These were different farms than the ones he had seen in the servant area or the outer court area. They were a lot more extensive and took up massive swathes of area.

Han Yu had only passed by their territory once and had seen more beasts than people.

Yet now he realized that their apparent obscurity was deliberate. A cultivated camouflage.

"Did you see him?" Han Yu asked.

"Saw him climb into a spirit beast. Shiny fur. White like snow. Not a word spoken. Then, gone. Disappeared into trees."

Han Yu rubbed his chin, his heart racing with curiosity. A man who could tame such powerful beasts and yet vanish without anyone sensing—how deep did his cultivation go?

Chitterfang continued.

"He strong. But people laugh. Don't know his real claws. Other man… spear one. Scar on face. Looks angry. Smells like broken metal."

Han Yu had no doubt who the latter was.

Peak Head Fang Tian of Spear Peak—a man said to have split a demon's skull with a single thrust and lived through two war campaigns as a disciple before taking over the peak. He was also known for his strict, silent methods.

If he was in the group, hiding in the shadows, it meant one thing: the sect was prepared for serious trouble.

The chatter among the marching disciples seemed to agree.

"I heard there's something sealed under the Southern Marshes. Something ancient."

"Maybe we're not there to fight a beast horde… maybe we're there to prevent something from escaping."

"Don't talk like that! You'll curse us all!"

Even among the Outer Court disciples, the tone had shifted from excitement to something sharper, more nervous.

The presence of three Peak Heads in a single mission was unheard of in recent sect history. Even in defensive wars, only one would usually be dispatched, with the others guarding the sect itself.

This was more than just an expedition.

It was a gamble, with preparations layered so tightly that even the disciples involved only knew fragments of the truth.

Han Yu, still walking with the alchemy group, reached into his storage pouch and squeezed a small wooden talisman carved with beast motifs—one of his creations and that he'd learened from the beast taming manual. It allowed improved ranged contact with one's tamed beast.

It was a signal: keep searching, dig deeper.

They had barely begun the journey, and already the undercurrents were stirring.

Still, he didn't voice any of this aloud. Instead, he smiled at the disciple beside him, a girl from Cauldron Hall complaining about the humidity ruining her powder blends.

"Think we'll find some rare herbs out there?" she asked.

Han Yu smiled. "Probably. Just be careful they don't try to eat you back."

As the thundering procession of fifty thousand marched south, the trees grew taller, the skies cloudier, and the whispers of secrets began to multiply like insects in the dusk.

Han Yu marched with the rest.

But his mind was already racing ahead.