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

The peak heads, however, were utterly unaffected.

Han Yu noticed it.

They meditated at the center of the formation, eyes closed, a faint glow of protective light swirling around their forms. Nothing touched them. Not even the creeping sense of dread that smothered everyone else. Not a single hallucination disturbed their minds.

'So why aren't they doing anything?'

Surely, if Han Yu and even some outer court elders could sense the unnaturalness of the forest, the peak heads—powerful figures at the highest realm of cultivation—would know far more.

He was certain they'd noticed the strange fluctuations. Certain they'd sensed the watching presence beyond the trees.

And if Chitterfang's reports were true…

The owl was back.

That strange, pale-feathered creature with black eyes and spiral horns. According to the rat's latest scouting, it had perched again atop a bent tree overlooking the outer perimeter of the camp—exactly as it had done the previous night. Watching.

Unmoving.

Unblinking.

Han Yu's curiosity finally outweighed his caution.

He waited until midnight, when the camp was at its quietest. The disciples were either asleep or sitting in silence around dim camp fires, their eyes vacant or half-lidded from fatigue. The elders rotated shifts around the protective formation, but their focus was inward, protecting the vulnerable minds of the disciples, not outward.

Wrapping his qi tightly within himself and using a qi suppression talisman to further hide his presence, Han Yu slipped out through a carefully layered gap in the outer array—an opening he had noticed the night before and made note of.

It was a gap left by a rather tired senior disciple which Han Yu could now make use of.

He didn't go far at first. Just a dozen meters past the array's edge. The forest immediately felt different. The air was colder, thinner. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their bark slick with glowing mist.

But no hallucinations touched his mind.

He pressed further.

Eventually, he reached the spot Chitterfang had described.

And there, sitting silently atop a gnarled, broken tree, was the owl.

It looked exactly as described: feathers pure white as new snow, eyes deep black and reflecting no light. Its spiral horns curled back from its head like ancient stone carvings. It stared straight ahead—not at Han Yu, not even visibly acknowledging him—but at the center of the camp.

Han Yu crouched low behind a bush and observed it carefully.

There was no qi signature. No aura. It radiated nothing.

Yet he could feel it.

Something ancient. Something distant. As though the owl existed just slightly out of phase with the world around it. Like a thought that hadn't yet fully formed.

He narrowed his eyes.

Was it a beast? A spirit? A construct?

Or perhaps something else entirely?

Why was it watching?

And why only watch?

Han Yu remained still, breathing quietly, mind sharp. If this creature was the source of the illusions, then what was its purpose?

And more importantly—

What would it do if he approached?

He didn't move yet. He simply watched in return, heart steady, waiting for a sign.

Han Yu narrowed his eyes.

From his concealed vantage, he studied every detail of the white owl, mentally running through all the bestiaries, beast compendiums, and obscure spirit creature references he had ever read. He searched for some match—anything familiar.

White feathers. Black, depthless eyes. Spiral horns. An aura so quiet it felt like a void rather than concealment.

Nothing.

It wasn't a phantom owl. It wasn't a known illusion beast. It didn't give off the faint pulse of a qi-wrought construct. It had no shadow-beast alignment. No natural qi presence. And yet, it was undeniably there.

Real. Watching. Timeless.

Was it a spiritual remnant? A projection of the forest itself?

'Could it even be touched?'

Han Yu's brows drew together in frustration. He hated not knowing. Not understanding. Ever since he had embarked on his path of Soul Cultivation, his instincts and senses had sharpened beyond the norm—but even with all that, this owl remained beyond comprehension.

Silently, he edged closer.

The owl didn't react.

He took another step. No response.

Then another.

Until finally—he stood directly before it, close enough that the breath from his nostrils stirred the soft down of its chest feathers. The owl remained still, perched serenely on the twisted branch, head pointed toward the camp, utterly ignoring him.

Han Yu slowly extended a hand.

He moved inch by inch, his fingers hovering just above the strange creature's form, hesitant, but determined. He watched its feathers shift in the faint wind, and thought again of reaching beyond the veil of understanding.

Was this wise?

Probably not.

But sometimes cultivation required a reckless push.

His hand stopped just shy of contact—barely an inch away.

And that was when it moved.

With a sudden, fluid motion, the owl's head twisted toward him—not turned, but twisted, the neck rotating in an unnatural, serpentine roll that defied anatomy. Its black eyes locked onto his, and Han Yu found himself frozen—not by force, but by gravity, as if his soul had snagged on something vast and alien.

The forest around him seemed to fall silent.

Even the wind stopped moving.

And then—

A voice entered his ears.

Not spoken aloud.

Not whispered.

But placed directly into the center of his awareness, cool and unblinking.

"What are you doing, human?"

The words didn't echo, yet they resounded through his bones.

Han Yu's breath caught in his throat.

The voice was neither male nor female. It was distant, as if it had traveled across a great length of time to reach him. Calm. Detached. Not angry—merely curious, in the way one might speak to a particularly clever insect crawling near a forbidden relic.

He steadied his heartbeat, instinctively wrapping his soul around his thoughts.

Yet the owl didn't move. Its head remained tilted, spiral horns casting jagged shadows in the pale light.

Han Yu licked his lips.

"I was… trying to understand what you are," he said carefully, not aloud but within his own mind, broadcasting the thought like a soul cultivator's whisper.