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

The hall of illusions finally stilled, its warped surfaces fading back into plain stone.

What once seemed like a twisting forest and battlefield of phantoms was now nothing more than a vast square chamber, its high ceiling supported by pillars etched with alchemical motifs.

The echoes of battle died out, replaced by the ragged breathing of disciples trying to steady themselves.

Everyone looked worn down. Their clothes were torn, their limbs streaked with shallow cuts, and blood stained more than one robe. But as they gathered near the center, relief showed in their eyes, relief that they had all survived, though barely.

"Sit down. Tend to your wounds immediately," Xuan Qing ordered, her usually steady voice carrying a sharp edge. Though her hair was disheveled and a small cut ran across her cheek, her bearing remained steady. "We don't know what lies deeper in, but it will only be worse than this. We must recover our strength now."

The disciples nodded quickly.

Fatty Kui collapsed onto the floor with a grunt, clutching at a gash along his side. The fact that even he with his durable body had been injured showed the threat of the trial.

Wu Shuan dug into his satchel, bringing out a small porcelain vial, while She Ming was already untying her medicine pouch. One by one, healing pills were swallowed, salves were applied to cuts, and shallow wounds were wrapped with quick bandages.

The hall was filled with the bitter, medicinal scent of crushed herbs and pill residue. Some disciples winced as the medicine took effect, drawing out impurities and knitting flesh together faster than natural healing could allow.

Han Yu leaned against one of the pillars, his breathing slowing as he popped a pale-green recovery pill into his mouth.

Warmth spread through his meridians, soothing the ache of his wounds, though the sting of deeper cuts would take more time. His back still bled sluggishly beneath his robes, but he ignored it. Compared to what he had endured before, these were scratches.

As they worked, murmurs began to rise among the group. Xuan Qing glanced around, her sharp eyes landing first on She Ming, who sat across from her with her large fan resting on her knees.

"It seems…" She Ming said slowly, "that we have someone to thank. If not for Han Yu, I wouldn't be here right now. He was the one who broke through my illusionary barrier and cut me free."

Several heads turned instantly.

Xuan Qing's brows rose. "Han Yu?"

She Ming nodded firmly, meeting their gazes. "It wasn't just me. He pulled Fatty Kui out too, and even tore open paths for two more disciples before you seniors managed to break free on your own."

A silence followed her words, broken only by the faint crackling of qi as healing pills circulated through their systems. The senior disciples exchanged looks of surprise.

Xuan Qing finally looked at Han Yu, her eyes narrowing as if studying him anew. "Is that true?"

Han Yu gave a modest chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't go that far. I simply realized what was wrong with the illusions sooner than the others. Once I understood the trick, it became easier to move."

Her frown deepened. "And how, exactly, did you distinguish which were false and which were real? Even for us, it was difficult to separate them amidst the chaos. Illusions designed to deceive one's very senses are not so easily unraveled."

Han Yu's mind raced.

He couldn't tell them about his soul cultivation. If they knew he could sense souls directly, his secret would be dangerously close to being exposed. He needed something believable.

After a breath, he smiled faintly. "I noticed that the illusions without vitality lacked the subtle fluctuations of qi that living beings always give off. Beasts breathe, puppets have animating energy flowing through them, even constructs will vibrate faintly with their internal force. Illusions, however, remain perfectly uniform. Too uniform. Once I focused on that, it became clear which ones had life and which were empty."

The words were close enough to the truth to be convincing. He had indeed focused on vitality, though his method had been through soul sense.

The seniors fell quiet, digesting his explanation.

Then, Senior Brother Duan gave a low whistle, shaking his head. "To do that in such chaos… impressive. You were bleeding, surrounded on all sides, and still had the composure to narrow your perception to such fine detail. That's not something just anyone could do."

Another senior disciple, a thin man with sharp features, added, "Even I struggled to sense the difference until I calmed my qi flow and focused. But by then, I was already half-lost in the illusions. If you noticed it so quickly, it speaks of sharp instincts... and an iron will."

Han Yu shrugged with a modest grin. "I've been pressured before. This wasn't the first time."

That single line struck a chord with them. Xuan Qing, her expression softening slightly, murmured, "Yes… I almost forgot. You've been in situations far harsher than this. The ravine where you fell years ago, the place teeming with beasts. Most would have perished in a week, yet you survived for months."

Another nodded. "And didn't he also infiltrate the Mist Eye Sect once, during that mission with the intel from the reconnaissance unit? I heard he crossed their outer defenses and returned alive when even seasoned elders said it was suicide."

The thin man added grimly, "True. That task was so dangerous even our seniors debated whether it should be assigned at all. And yet, you came back. Alive."

A ripple of acknowledgment passed through them. Their earlier doubts gave way to reluctant respect. Han Yu felt the weight of their gazes but kept his expression calm. Inwardly, though, he was amused.

'So my past reckless stunts are finally paying dividends. They think I'm just stubborn enough to push through where others would break. Not a bad reputation to have.'

His reputation was finally coming in handy.