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

While he had tested flying on it before, never had he flown as long as it required of him today.

Chitterfang clung to his shoulder, tail twitching uneasily as it scanned below. Even a rat, used to dark and damp sewers did not like this swamp.

The water churned once.

A grotesque leech longer than a dog broke the surface and snapped at a lagging disciple, only to be blasted away by a fire talisman thrown by one of the Inner Court members.

Han Yu didn't look back.

This was how it would be from now on—harsh, unrelenting, and unforgiving.

Once they landed again, exhaustion was written on every Outer Court disciple's face. Sweat soaked their robes. Several had blood leaking from their nostrils, their Dantians rattled from overdrawn qi.

But no one collapsed. Not yet. A few that were close to it, were quickly rescued by their seniors or elders. drawn upon their spirit weapons.

There would be no leniency here.

They still had weeks of this ahead. Weeks of venomous swamps, shifting trails, ambushes from nature and beast alike.

And possibly worse.

Han Yu's gaze wandered to the murky sky. Somewhere, he imagined, the owl still watched.

But it had not appeared again. Not even once.

Whatever its role had been, it was done.

Now, the Southern Marshes themselves would test the sect. Not through illusion, but through trial by decay, danger, and despair.

And the true purpose of their expedition had yet to even begin.

The Southern Marshes grew worse with each passing day.

At first, it had been survivable—harsh, certainly, but manageable.

The disciples trudged through mud that sucked at their boots and crossed flooded basins with the help of their spirit tools. Dangerous beasts attacked now and then—fang-toothed frogs, snapping turtle-beasts with moss growing from their backs, clouds of biting insects—but the elders were vigilant, and the formations kept the group moving.

But by the third day deep into the marsh, that veneer of control began to crack.

The true nature of the Southern Marshes revealed itself not with thunder or a great calamity, but slowly, insidiously—like rot spreading beneath skin.

Disciples began to fall ill.

It started with a fever in one of the younger Outer Court members. His qi fluctuated wildly one morning, and he stumbled as he walked, face flushed red and soaked in sweat. He tried to claim it was just heat exhaustion, but by midday, two more disciples had collapsed with similar symptoms.

Then the cause became clear—mosquitoes.

Not the ordinary kind, but thick-bodied, long-legged horrors that flew in slow, deliberate spirals above the swamps. Their wings buzzed like rustling parchment, and when they bit, they left behind more than just an itch. Their venom tainted the blood itself, stirring weakness, fever, and spiritual instability.

Worse still were the leeches.

Unlike the massive, openly hostile swamp-leeches seen earlier, these were small. Thumb-sized. Flat and nearly invisible, especially when crawling beneath the folds of robes. They latched on unnoticed, anchoring themselves in hidden places—behind the knees, under arms, in the crook of the neck.

It wasn't until the disciples turned pale and sluggish, their qi drained and skin clammy, that the leeches were discovered—sometimes covering their bodies in horrifying clusters.

Panic swept the outer camp.

Elders barked orders to strip and cleanse everyone, and alchemical ointments were distributed in short supply. A few had to be forcibly restrained and purged by fire talismans—painful, but necessary.

Han Yu avoided much of it.

He had already sensed something odd in the qi flow of the marsh. The beasts here were not just dangerous—they were subtle. Cunning. Each time he sat to meditate, he sent faint pulses of qi and vitality around him. That was how he noticed the odd, almost imperceptible spiritual fluctuation one night.

A patch of cool wetness on his ankle.

Leeches.

Small, but many—already biting.

He didn't scream or panic. Instead, he picked up a piece of pitch-soaked branch from their last fire, lit it, and held it near his skin.

The leeches shriveled and fell away, bursting with little pops of blood and fluid.

He winced as one or two left blisters behind, but otherwise remained unharmed.

Others weren't as lucky.

Those who tried to pull the leeches off with their hands ended up with bleeding wounds that didn't heal easily, or worse—leeches that regrew from broken segments still buried beneath the skin.

By contrast, Fatty Kui, though complaining incessantly and drenched in sweat, remained completely untouched.

"Ehhh? Why's everyone lookin' like boiled frogs?" Kui muttered, scratching his back with the hilt of his fan. "What's with all the groaning?"

A nearby disciple glared at him. "How are you not infected?! Your whole body's exposed!"

"Exposed?" Kui lifted his shirt slightly, revealing rolls of jiggling belly fat beneath a tightly wrapped spiritual talisman belt. "Brother, you think those bugs can bite through this fortress of flesh? I've cultivated Spiritual Gluttony Physique passed down in our sect but never having enough practitioners. Can't pierce through even if they wanted to!"

Several stared at him in disbelief.

But it was true—neither mosquito nor leech seemed able to penetrate the thick skin he carried like armor. Even the more observant disciples noted how the insects would veer away from him, frustrated.

Han Yu didn't laugh, but he did raise an eyebrow.

Wu Shuan, on the other hand, was having a miserable time.

The moisture in the air clung to his skin, making every breath labored. His qi helped only marginally—the marsh's oppressive dampness affected the spirit as much as the body. His hair clung to his forehead in dark strands, and his usual sharp expression had dulled with fatigue.

"I'd trade a month of cultivation to be dry again," Wu Shuan muttered, teeth gritted as he squeezed swamp water out of his sleeve. "My robes haven't been dry in days."

The elders, while still unbothered in appearance, had noticeably tightened their guard. Defensive arrays were deployed more often now, and they stopped to rest far more cautiously.