Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time
Chapter 218: Having A Proper Meal In A Long Time

Chapter 218: Having A Proper Meal In A Long Time

Han Yu’s muscles ached not just from battle, but from days of malnutrition, dehydration, and lack of sleep.

Now, with food in his belly, warmth by his side, and the Caldera closer with every passing hour, Han Yu finally let himself relax.

"Alright, volcano... I’m coming," he said, licking grease off his fingers. "But if the next beast tries to eat me, it better expect a fight."

And with that, he leaned back against the rocks, still alert, but—finally—just a little hopeful.

Han Yu patted his stomach, feeling something close to human again. For the first time in days, he wasn’t starving, shaking, or soaked in a combination of sweat, fear, and despair.

Now that his belly was full, it was time to think smart.

He glanced down at the two other boars he hadn’t eaten yet. "You’re not going to waste away on me," he said, cracking his knuckles and pulling out his glaive again—not to fight, but to butcher.

He stripped one of the carcasses with practiced ease. Life as a servant in Twin Leaf Peak might not have prepared him for much, but it sure taught him how to handle a knife—and his glaive worked just fine as a substitute. He cut long, clean strips of meat, laying them out flat on a heated rock to lightly dry. The rest, he began wrapping.

But he needed something to carry it in.

His eyes turned to the hide of the boar. Thick, rough, and still warm.

"Sorry, buddy. You’re going to be my lunch box now."

He cut off a square piece and began shaping it into a crude pouch, using sharpened stone and his spare dagger to puncture small holes along the edge. From the same boar, he extracted long sinews—tough, stringy, and perfect for makeshift thread. He tied the sinews into knots, then laced them through the holes like a sewing pattern.

A hide bag, dirty and still smelling faintly of burnt beast hair, but it held the meat well enough.

He fastened the bag tightly with a few extra sinew loops, then lashed it to his back like a makeshift traveling bag, securing it firmly. The meat would probably last a few days, maybe more if he didn’t eat it all in one go—which, given how long he’d been starving, was a very real risk.

The bag swung a little against his hip. It smelled... strongly. But Han Yu barely noticed. His clothes were torn, filthy, and caked in a variety of dried substances he didn’t want to identify. If anything, the meat bag was an upgrade.

"Fashion’s subjective anyway," he muttered.

Nearby, he spotted a small pool of water, nestled between blackened volcanic stones. Thin tendrils of steam curled from the surface, indicating its warmth. Carefully, he crouched and cupped a handful to sniff—no sulfur, no stench, just mineral-rich, volcanically warmed water.

Still cautious, he let a few drops fall onto the back of his hand.

Warm, but not scalding. Probably heated naturally by underground vents. That meant it was almost certainly sterile. Even if it wasn’t, Han Yu was sure his body’s immune system could handle it.

"Hot spring lite," he quipped, grinning as he took a long sip.

It was a bit too warm to be refreshing, but after the dehydrated desperation of cave crawling and near-death sprints, it felt like liquid heaven.

He filled his water skin to the brim, and even took the time to splash some onto his face and hair, wiping off the thickest layers of soot and blood. The water turned murky near instantly, but Han Yu felt just a little cleaner—though still far from respectable.

Once everything was packed, his glaive cleaned, and his stomach satisfied, he took one last look around the small hollow where he’d made camp. The steam vent, the empty bones of slain beasts, and the dried dung fire pit—none of it screamed ’luxury,’ but it had given him something more valuable than gold:

Strength to keep going.

Han Yu stood, wiped his hands on his trousers, and tightened the straps on his bag.

"Alright, Slumbering Caldera," he said, voice hard and steady, "I’m fed, I’m pissed, and I’m coming for those Fireborn Ashes. You better not throw another snake at me."

And with his meat swinging at his hip and fresh water in his pack, Han Yu began the next leg of his journey.

The journey to the edge of the Slumbering Caldera was grueling, even with food in his belly and water in his bag. Han Yu had expected it to take maybe half a day, but reality had other plans.

The volcanic plateau was alive with movement.

Not from people—but beasts.

From burrowing worms that shook the earth as they passed underneath, to territorial flame-backed lizards that hissed smoke at anything that moved, and even distant screeches from aerial predators that blotted out the sun for seconds at a time, Han Yu had to move like a shadow, staying low, hugging terrain, and holding his breath more often than he liked.

By the time he finally reached a rocky rise that overlooked the massive bowl of the Caldera, he was exhausted all over again. The wind that rolled up from the caldera’s basin was dry, warm, and acrid, but to Han Yu, it smelled like progress.

Relief fluttered through his chest.

That is, until he heard voices.

Human voices.

His body stiffened immediately. Han Yu crawled up the nearby hill, keeping low and close to the earth. At the summit, he lay flat on his stomach and peered out over the rise, squinting against the glare of volcanic light.

What he saw made his gut twist.

A small outpost had been built on the very edge of the caldera—three squat buildings crafted from dark volcanic rock, some tents staked into the hardened earth, and a few watchtowers made of scavenged wood, rock and bone.

Even from a distance, he could tell from the robes, from the dark violet embroidery and silver sashes—Mist Eye Sect disciples.

But there was someone else.

Someone who stood apart from them.

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