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

The air was still heavy with the scent of scorched earth and spilled blood as Spear Peak Head Fang Tian descended into the battlefield.

Like a bolt of lightning cast down from the heavens, he landed just behind Sword Peak Head Jian Wuhen. Without exchanging a word, the two peak heads moved as if in perfect sync—one a dancing sword of inevitability, the other a crushing spear of judgment.

The three Shattered Blood Vessel Sect elders, already struggling to contain Jian Wuhen's relentless onslaught, barely had time to react before the tide turned fatally against them.

Fang Tian's spear arced through the battlefield with merciless precision. Each strike was backed by the full might of a Dao Treading Realm cultivator, and every time he moved, the earth trembled underfoot. Jian Wuhen pressed the assault without hesitation, his sword forms creating layered crescents of qi that carved through technique and body alike.

Within moments, the already pressured blood sect trio found themselves overmatched. One fell to a blow that caved his chest in with a thunderous shockwave. Another tried to flee, but Jian Wuhen severed his path with a vertical slash that cleaved through spiritual armor and ribcage alike. The last attempted to detonate his Nascent Soul in a final suicidal burst—only for a spear of pure golden qi to pierce through his skull first, killing him instantly.

It was over in seconds.

The ground settled. The battlefield fell eerily quiet.

Three corpses lay amidst the dust, their robes torn and soaked in blood. Their shattered talismans and broken defensive artifacts crackled with residual energy as they gave off their final dying sparks.

The disciples watching from the camp were stunned, their faces pale with awe and disbelief. The Shattered Blood Vessel Sect elders had been Dao Shell Realm cultivators—formidable enemies who in normal times could have decimated entire squads alone.

And yet now they were nothing more than broken bodies cooling on the bloodstained dirt.

A few hours later, the entire expedition force had gathered outside the main command tent. The outer court disciples stood at the edges, some murmuring nervously, while the inner court and core disciples stood at the front, silent but tense.

Three bodies were laid out before them, covered only lightly in bloodstained cloth. Even in death, the mark of the Shattered Blood Vessel Sect could be seen—the black and red veins on their robes with the broken bottle sect emblem etched into their skin.

Jian Wuhen and Fang Tian stood side by side, their imposing presence making even the wind seem hesitant to blow. A moment later, a third presence joined them—the Beast Peak Head, Ruen Mu, his hunched form radiating a tranquil yet deadly aura.

Han Yu looked at the Beast Peak Head for the first time.

'So he finally shows himself... Guess he was the additional backup in case things went south.' Han Yu reckoned. 'Though I don't see or sense his Tamed Beasts... Are they still keeping watch on the perimeter perhaps?' He wondered but didn't dare to send Chitterfang to take a look, as it would be a little too much for the rat to snoop around beasts that strong.

Between the three Peak Heads, not a word needed to be spoken. They had seen battle together more than once, and this rhythm of unity was forged in fire.

Still, it was Jian Wuhen who stepped forward, speaking in his usual calm, steel-edged tone.

"You've all seen it now," he said. "There was an ambush. We fought. We won."

The disciples remained silent. The tension was heavy—half shock, half awe.

One of the braver inner court disciples stepped forward. "Peak Head Jian… Did you know this would happen?"

Jian Wuhen nodded once. "We suspected something. We prepared for it. But we did not expect it to be the Shattered Blood Vessel Sect."

Another core disciple, voice hesitant, asked, "But… isn't their sect neutral? They've never taken part in any war before, much less attacked us."

Fang Tian's eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze dropped to the corpses. "Neutrality means little when opportunity or desperation comes knocking."

The disciples stirred uneasily. A few whispered to each other.

One disciple—a senior core member—spoke what everyone else was thinking. "But these aren't ordinary members. These are… these were elders. Dao Shell realm. That's a massive portion of their fighting strength, isn't it?"

Ruen Mu nodded slowly, tapping his walking stick against the earth. "The Shattered Blood Vessel Sect isn't large. A few hundred members at most, many of them scattered in hiding or secluded practice. These three were some of their strongest."

Another disciple frowned deeply. "Why now, then? Why commit so much? Why expose themselves after so long?"

The three Peak Heads exchanged a glance, and for the first time, Jian Wuhen's expression wavered slightly.

"We do not know," he admitted. "And that concerns us."

Fang Tian continued, "This expedition is no mere journey for resources or reputation. The deeper we go, the more we'll face… things unknown, threats old and new. This attack confirms what we suspected: we are not the only ones moving in secret."

Ruen Mu's voice came soft but resolute. "You all must understand—this is not just a test of your cultivation. It is a test of survival. Of loyalty. Of spirit. Some of you will not come back."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Throughout the entire debrief, Han Yu stood at the edge of the gathering. His expression betrayed nothing, but inwardly, he was absorbing every word, every gesture, every change in expression.

The fact that three Dao Shell realm elders had been sacrificed for a single ambush was deeply troubling.

Not just because of their strength.

But because it meant someone—something—had convinced them it was worth it.

'This is more than just greed,' Han Yu thought. 'More than just competition over treasure.'

He crossed his arms slowly, lost in thought.

'The Shattered Blood Vessel Sect is Unorthodox… but not suicidal. Unless there is a deeper power behind them.'

His gaze shifted back toward the battlefield, where the corpses still lay cooling in the dirt.

'Whatever lies ahead… it's forcing ancient things to move again.'