Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time
Chapter 63: Dishonorable Moves

Chapter 63: Dishonorable Moves

Everyone watching the fight winced as they heard the sharp, high-pitched grunt of Gao Ren.

THUD.

The boy didn’t even have the luxury of cursing before he collapsed to the ground, his limbs twitching like a fish out of water. His eyes welled up with tears, his mouth foamed like an over-shaken bottle of ale, and then—silence. A couple of seconds later, he simply passed out, unable to bear the ungodly pain that had been inflicted upon him.

And it wasn’t just Gao Ren who felt the agony; every man present—young, old, warrior, or scholar—grimaced, instinctively cupping their groins as if protecting themselves from a ghostly aftershock.

Even Elder Nie Jing, a battle-hardened master who had seen all manner of carnage, winced. Several male disciples paled, some falling to their knees as if they, too, had been struck by Han Yu’s legendary technique.

"Terrifying... Too terrifying!" the boys watching all muttered in horror.

Even Fan Lian and She Ming, mid-combat in the second ring, froze upon witnessing the sheer brutality of the strike.¹

"That kid is a menace!" whispered one of the senior disciples.

There was an unspoken agreement among all male participants: if Han Yu ever offered a friendly spar, they would politely decline... and then run in the opposite direction.

Had Han Yu used his Bolt God Fist in full force, Gao Ren wouldn’t just be unconscious—he’d be meeting his ancestors. If he survived, he might be spending the rest of his life singing soprano in the sect choir.

Han Yu had chosen this forbidden move only after deep contemplation. He feared using it himself, not out of mercy, but because he knew its consequences were too cruel, even by his own shameless standards.

If he had a choice, he would’ve preferred to punch Gao Ren in the face. However, given the absurd size difference, his fists had about as much impact on the boy-man as a mosquito’s slap. Standing still to charge up his Bolt God Fist would have only gotten him crushed, so he resorted to the most surefire method of felling a titan: the dreaded "Forbidden Street Skill Number One."

"Dishonorable! Utterly dishonorable!" Elder Nie Jing finally found his voice, his outrage mixing with residual second-hand pain. "Not only do you use cheap tricks like throwing sand, but you also attack the most sacred of areas! The foundation of a man’s dignity!"

Han Yu, however, was not one to back down from a debate, especially one involving his survival.

"I only did what was necessary, Elder," he replied, completely unapologetic. "Besides, there was nothing in the rules about using sand. It’s everywhere. Am I supposed to ignore my environment? What am I, a potential sect disciple or a blindfolded monk practicing asceticism?" He spread his arms dramatically.

"That still doesn’t explain why you struck his groin!" the elder shot back.

"That? Ah, my hand slipped." Han Yu shrugged, the picture of innocence.

"You expect me to believe that nonsense?!" the elder thundered.

"I was aiming for his leg to knock him down, but he moved, and well..." Han Yu sighed, shaking his head. "Physics took over. Tragic, really."

"Absolutely false!" the disciple in charge of Gao Ren interjected, unable to contain his fury. "You named the move! You called it the Ball Buster!"

"A misnomer!" Han Yu waved dismissively. "A misunderstanding! A mistake of branding, if you will."

"Then why would you name it that?!" the disciple sputtered.

"I was targeting his knees," Han Yu explained smoothly. "But if you look closely, doesn’t he have unusually bulging kneecaps? Almost... ball-like?"

The audience collectively turned their gaze toward Gao Ren’s unconscious form, particularly his robust, muscle-clad legs. Indeed, his absurd physique made his knees appear disproportionately rounded.

"He’s not wrong..." a few younger disciples murmured, nodding in unison.

Xu Qing, who had been silently watching this trainwreck unfold, let out a deep sigh and covered her face with her palm.

"Han Yu..." Her voice was strained, as if she was fighting the urge to throttle him.

But Han Yu wasn’t finished. Sensing an opportunity, he turned to the elder with the confidence of a man who had long abandoned shame.

"I’m the winner, right?" He pointed at Gao Ren, who was still lying motionless on the ground. "He’s down. That counts."

The elder remained silent, his temple throbbing with barely restrained frustration.

Sensing hesitation, Han Yu decided to double down.

He grabbed Gao Ren’s ankle and began dragging him across the dirt, his unconscious body leaving a perfect trail in its wake. He pulled him right out of the ring and then dramatically gestured at the empty space.

"See? Now he’s out of the ring. That’s totally a win." Han Yu grinned.

"You—you—!" The disciple overseeing Gao Ren nearly exploded, pointing an accusatory finger at Han Yu as if it might smite him.

"Enough!" Elder Nie Jing, whose patience had long been trampled upon, finally spoke with finality. "Han Yu is... the winner." He practically choked on the words.

A radiant smile bloomed on Han Yu’s face. "I always knew Elder was wise and fair! A true beacon of justice!" He even clapped enthusiastically for added effect.

The elder’s eye twitched. He had never wanted to throttle a disciple so much in his entire life.

Han Yu, of course, was fully aware that he had not made any friends today. But survival was survival, and rules were rules.

’In a real fight, no one would hold back. It was Gao Ren’s own fault for leaving such a glaring weak spot unguarded,’ he reasoned. ’Defend your eyes and crotch—basic street-fighting principles.’

"Resume the match," the elder barked, desperate to move past this disgraceful moment.

In the second ring, Fan Lian and She Ming, who had long since abandoned their own fight to watch the absurdity unfold, quickly returned to their battle.

Han Yu watched with interest. She Ming was proving to be far better than he initially thought. She was as slippery as an eel, dodging and weaving through Fan Lian’s palm strikes.

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