Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time
Chapter 232: Planning The Next Step

Chapter 232: Planning The Next Step

The Mist Eye Sect clearly didn’t want outsiders knowing about the skeleton. If Han Yu got this information back to his sect, they’d promote him. Or lock him in a vault for knowing too much.

Either way, it’d be exciting.

He rubbed his chin, his fingers grazing across some healing blisters, and sighed.

First things first. He still had more scrolls to review and not nearly enough rest in his bones. But the important pieces were coming together—Magma Ancestor, hidden altar, strange energy, and the cult’s involvement. He’d stitch the pattern soon.

But he couldn’t stay here forever.

This cave was safe for now, but if the Mist Eye Sect sent someone to investigate the burned-out outpost, they might trace his movements. He’d need to keep moving soon, maybe head toward one of the locations marked on the stolen map.

Still, he allowed himself a few more moments of stillness. The fire was warm. The food had been decent. His injuries no longer screamed.

That, by Han Yu’s standards, meant things were looking up.

"I swear," he said aloud, addressing the cave walls, "if this ’Magma Ancestor’ thing wakes up and starts throwing fireballs, I’m going to throw everyone into the lava."

The cave, unsurprisingly, had no opinion.

Han Yu reclined just slightly, pulling a scroll from the pile, preparing to dive into another cryptic report.

His mission was just beginning.

But now... he had names.

He had facts.

He had secrets.

And somewhere, buried beneath molten stone and ancient seals, a long-dead god—or worse—was waiting.

Waiting to be disturbed.

Waiting to awaken.

And Han Yu?

Han Yu was the last kind of person you wanted poking around your grave.

For now though, he sat cross-legged near the mouth of the cave, letting the cool morning air soothe the lingering sting of his burns. His bandages had loosened a bit during the night, stained a dark brown from dried ointment and sweat. Though he wasn’t fully healed, the worst had passed. The worst always passed... eventually.

He reached into his stolen satchel and pulled out a few of the scrolls and maps he had taken from the Mist Eye outpost. The maps were hand-drawn, detailed, and clearly created with more care than what their sect normally afforded its outer disciples. This meant someone with authority had provided these.

He laid one open across a flat rock, smoothing the corners with his bandaged fingers. The central feature was, unsurprisingly, the vast caldera itself—depicted with crimson ink that spread outward like veins. The Western End was clearly marked, and more importantly, so was the surface path that connected it to the rest of the plateau.

Han Yu traced the winding trail with his finger until he came across something that made him pause. There, nestled into the rocky shelf just beyond the western rise, was a large structure. A proper fortified outpost.

"That’s... new," he muttered, brows narrowing.

According to what the Twin Leaf Peak Sect had told him, the Western End was a barren stretch of land—desolate, inaccessible, and devoid of anything worth placing men or effort into. And yet, here it was on the Mist Eye Sect’s own map, marked plainly with a bold glyph and labeled: "Central West Surveillance Post."

Han Yu exhaled a long breath and leaned back against the stone wall.

"Guess I can consider some part of the mission complete," he said, half to himself.

If he brought this back—just this map alone—it would already be considered a success. It confirmed that the Mist Eye Sect had operations far more extensive than they’d ever let on, with strongholds in supposedly abandoned regions.

Still, the Western route was now out of the question. The underground tunnels that he had barely escaped from were collapsed, likely permanently, and the surface road to that Western base would be crawling with guards. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could sneak past a fortress full of Mist Eye Sect disciples without consequence. Not in his current state. Not even fully healed.

"Then... another path," he whispered, letting his eyes drift over the map.

His gaze slid downward, to the southern edge of the plateau—a jagged region marked in grey. Unlike the west, this area wasn’t dominated by magma pools or ancient bones. It was simply labeled in a sparse hand: Caldera Edge Town.

A small, insignificant name. No special markers. No fortified camps. No crimson glyphs of note.

"Now that sounds like a place no one would bother watching," Han Yu said with a wry smile.

He rolled the map up carefully and placed it back in the satchel, then grabbed a stale biscuit and a strip of jerky from his food stash. The biscuit was dry and the jerky was stringy, but it was sustenance. He chewed with lazy determination while his mind raced ahead, visualizing the route.

The journey to the southern edge would be long. At least twenty to twenty-five kilometers across increasingly steep terrain. And with the sun rising, the rock would heat quickly. But the burns on his skin were manageable now, thanks to the ointments and bandages. His inner robe stuck uncomfortably to his back with dried sweat, but he’d dealt with worse.

He took another look at the town’s name.

Caldera Edge Town.

A place like that might hold exactly what he needed—lesser disciples, mercenaries, minor supply routes, gossip, and possibly trade documents. He could use the Mist Eye Sect robes he’d stolen for a light disguise, or play the wandering rogue cultivator if needed. Either way, he had options.

And more importantly, he had a direction.

Han Yu got to his feet slowly, stretching his arms with a hiss of pain. His legs still felt like they’d been roasted over an open fire. Every step was tender. But he could move, and that was enough.

"I’m not dying in this volcano. Not yet," he muttered with dry amusement. "Not until I see what these bastards are really up to."

With new determination filling him, Han Yu was ready for whatever would come his way.