Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time
Chapter 230: Finding A Place To Rest

Chapter 230: Finding A Place To Rest

Han Yu stood atop a ridge overlooking the burning outpost for a few heartbeats longer. The fire roared like a beast claiming its kill, devouring the wood and cloth with greedy licks of flame. He didn’t flinch from the heat. Compared to the caldera, this was merely a hot breeze.

Still, he turned away.

Now that the Mist Eye Sect outpost was no longer a threat, Han Yu finally had the freedom to do what he had come here for in the first place—begin his true mission.

He had already gathered some valuable intelligence: the Mist Eye Sect’s presence in the caldera, their interest in the giant skeleton sealed beneath the magma, the search for a so-called "hidden altar"... That was more than most in the sect ever uncovered on similar missions.

But he knew there had to be more.

Those documents in his newly acquired satchel—it wasn’t enough to just possess them. He needed to understand them. Memorize what mattered. Burn what was too risky to keep and deliver the rest to the sect. And more importantly, plan his next move based on that information.

First, though, he needed to rest properly.

His body was screaming. The burn salve was only holding off the pain for now. His energy was low, his limbs still sluggish, and his mind dulled with exhaustion. The food he had eaten helped, but it wasn’t enough. He wished to eat more, but this was not the place for it.

He couldn’t afford to push further in this condition—not when he was alone behind enemy lines.

So, with deliberate slowness, he began to walk.

He left the scorched outpost behind, winding his way through the rocky highlands that surrounded the caldera’s rim. For the next few hours, Han Yu walked with his head low and his steps quiet, always choosing the most obscure paths. He made wide detours around beast trails and avoided any sign of human presence.

The journey was long and brutal.

By the time he had traveled nearly forty kilometers from the outpost, his legs were trembling. The soles of his feet—already blistered from earlier—were screaming again. The bandages stuck to his wounds in places, tugging painfully with every movement.

But finally, he found it.

Half-hidden behind a thicket of thorny bushes and nestled between jagged stone teeth, there was a cave.

Not large from the outside—just a shadowed slit in the rock face—but when he ducked inside and crept a few meters in, he found a roomy chamber with smooth stone walls and a natural chimney above, perfect for letting out smoke or heat if needed. Even if he lit a fire here, the smoke would only look like one of the many other smoke stacks rising from the vents here.

More importantly, it was dry, dark, and cool.

He could have wept.

Han Yu slumped down against the far wall of the cave, letting out a long, wheezing exhale. The soft echo of his breath returned to him like a lullaby. He set down the satchel and slowly began undoing the wraps on his body.

The bandages peeled away with difficulty, revealing raw, red flesh beneath, but it was no longer weeping or blistered as it had been. The pills and salves were doing their work. His skin was still sensitive, but the healing was underway.

He reapplied a fresh layer of burn medicine and rewrapped himself carefully—this time looser, more comfortably. He didn’t bother changing into new robes again; the Mist Eye uniform was still intact and could serve its purpose later if needed.

After setting a few talisman wards at the cave’s mouth—just in case a wild beast or wandering cultivator approached—Han Yu lit a small smokeless fire in the center of the chamber with a bit of fire-starting talisman paper.

There were a few of the talismans kept in the supplies back at the outpost so it became quite convenient for Han Yu now.

He had food now, real food. Not scorched meat or roots.

From his pack, he took out some of the grain balls and crushed them before soaking them in water with strips of dried pork and a few preserved mushrooms. It wasn’t gourmet sect cuisine, but after everything he’d been through, it tasted like the meals of immortals.

He devoured the stew in silence, the warmth slowly spreading through his belly.

And then, finally, once his hunger was sated and his body stable, he unfastened the satchel of stolen documents and dumped them out on the cave floor.

There were nearly twenty scrolls, most sealed with wax or bound by cord.

He sorted them quickly.

The first pile: logistical records. Patrol routes, supply inventories, personnel names.

The second pile: bestiary notes and environment reports. Mentions of magma lizards, fire wasps, geckos, and one particularly ominous report describing a "fireborn fox with apparent sentience."

Han Yu scoffed softly.

"Met that one already," he muttered, rubbing the part of his chest that still ached from the heat.

Then came the third pile.

And here, things grew interesting.

The first scroll bore a large red seal marked "Expedition Directive – Eyes Only."

He cracked the seal open and scanned the contents. His eyes narrowed as he read:

"The altar’s presence has been confirmed beneath the skeletal remains. Initial divinations suggest ties to the Ancient Cult of the Drowned Sun, an offshoot of the Crimson Abyss Sect. We must not allow rival factions access. Primary directive: Secure the Altar. Secondary: Identify the energy source stabilizing the magma. Proceed with caution."

Han Yu blinked.

Cult of the Drowned Sun? Crimson Abyss?

Those were names not often whispered aloud and this was the first time Han Yu was even hearing about them. While he knew that there were many unorthodox sects in the Ending Spine Mountains, the two names he read seemed beyond that.

Ancient, dangerous groups that dabbled in corruption and forbidden rites. Even his sect, with its open-minded policies and tolerance for eccentric cultivation paths, drew the line at some of their practices.

More scrolls followed, each one deepening the web of intrigue.