Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time
Chapter 77: Despair And Determination

Chapter 77: Despair And Determination

Still, Han Yu had no choice. If he disobeyed now, death might actually be a mercy compared to whatever Elder Nie Jing had in store for him.

STEP... STEP... STEP...

With the grace of a man walking into his own funeral—after tripping on the stairs—Han Yu staggered toward the dais.

"HUMPH!" Elder Nie Jing scoffed. He didn’t even bother saying anything, as if wasting words on Han Yu might shorten his lifespan.

Already knowing the process, Han Yu pricked his finger on the appraisal crystal and let a drop of blood fall.

He barely felt the pain. The stress of the moment had overridden everything else—he was a walking bundle of nerves, sweat, and desperate prayer.

He stared at the talent appraisal tablet, hoping—begging—that the heavens might take pity on him.

Time slowed. Every second dragged like an eternity. The tablet remained silent.

"Huh?"

"Why’s it taking so long?"

But no—it wasn’t time that had slowed.

It was the tablet.

"It’s been a minute already, hasn’t it?" someone whispered.

"Yeah, does it normally take this long?"

"I don’t think so..." a disciple muttered, frowning.

"...Fuck." Han Yu cursed under his breath, realizing the heavens had not only forsaken him—they were doubling down.

SPLAT

As if the universe wanted to put a stamp on his misery, a drop of bird poop landed directly on his head.

"HAHA!"

"How unlucky!"

The children roared with laughter, pointing fingers.

Even a few disciples chuckled, though they tried to do it behind their sleeves. A couple of elders still present on the scene bit back grins, lips twitching at the poetic timing of Han Yu’s cosmic misfortune.

Elder Nie Jing, however, didn’t laugh. His brows furrowed.

’Why’s it taking this long?’ the elder thought.

The tablet shouldn’t be acting this way. Once the appraisal crystal accepted blood, it should have triggered an immediate reading.

If Han Yu had no cultivation talent, the crystal wouldn’t have accepted his blood at all. But it had. Which meant... something. And yet, the tablet seemed to be struggling to interpret it.

’It couldn’t be...’ Elder Nie Jing’s eyes narrowed as an old memory stirred. A legend, buried deep in the recesses of history.

’No... no way. That’s just superstition.’ He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

Another full minute passed.

Then—

HUALA!

A soft glimmer flickered across the tablet’s surface. At the bottom, a tiny red dot appeared.

"A red dot?"

"It’s so small..."

"Can it even be that small?"

"Is it broken?"

No one had answers. Not even the Inner Court disciples had seen this before. The entire situation was so far outside the norm, it might as well have been performance art.

Han Yu stared blankly.

"...What?" he murmured, blinking as though the dot would grow out of sheer disbelief.

They waited.

Another minute passed.

Nothing changed.

HUMMM

Instead of intensifying, the light dimmed—then vanished altogether.

Elder Nie Jing’s gaze sharpened. For a fraction of a second, an unreadable smile tugged at his lips... before vanishing into a familiar scowl.

"Han Yu—RED RANKED TALENT!" he declared, his voice echoing across the arena. "YOU FAIL!"

The glee in his voice was subtle... but oh, it was there.

"WHAT!?"

The children gasped in disbelief.

They’d seen Han Yu defeat the two most talented recruits, even those with Indigo Rank. Sure, they didn’t expect him to score higher, but Red? That was practically a spiritual slap in the face.

And not even a firm slap. A wet, limp one.

Worse, it wasn’t even a good Red Rank. It was a baby’s first red crayon kind of rank.

Xu Qing’s stomach dropped to her boots.

"...Fuck," she muttered.

"...Fuck," Han Yu echoed in perfect unison, as if the heavens had orchestrated a duet of despair.

One had been scammed by Han Yu. The other had been scammed by the universe.

The difference was academic.

It didn’t feel like heartbreak for Han Yu—it felt like someone had snuck up and kicked him in the soul’s crotch.

"HOW CAN THIS BE?!" Han Yu shouted, unable to contain his devastation. "I was supposed to be the chosen one!"

Every dream, every hope, every cocky monologue—shattered like porcelain under a boot.

"ENOUGH!" Elder Nie Jing snapped. "If you don’t want to be here, then get out!"

Han Yu froze.

All his hopes and dreams, crushed under the weight of one glowing dot.

He wasn’t just low-ranked—he was the lowest of the low. Nearly invisible. His so-called "talent" might as well have been an accounting error.

The joke wasn’t just cruel—it felt personal.

"Didn’t you hear me? GET OUT!" Elder Nie Jing shouted. "Someone drag this kid away!"

Two disciples stepped forward and grabbed Han Yu by the arms.

Xu Qing, meanwhile, was wallowing in pity. Self-pity, that is.

Han Yu’s eyes snapped open.

He couldn’t let it end like this. Not here. Not like this.

"WAIT!" Han Yu screamed, thrashing against the disciples’ grip. "Don’t kick me out!"

"Hah? Then what?" Elder Nie Jing sneered. "You want to be a servant?"

"Yes!"

That shut everyone up.

Even the elder blinked in surprise.

"You? A servant?" Elder Nie Jing raised an eyebrow. "You think you’re worthy of even that?"

"Yes," Han Yu said firmly. "If I recall correctly, as long as servants reach the Qi Refining Realm, they can become disciples. Right?"

He was right, technically.

The rules allowed it—but the path was brutal. Less than a handful ever succeeded. It was a route filled with humiliation, labor, and despair. A punishment, not a privilege.

For someone like Han Yu—who had just humiliated future Legacy Disciples—it was basically a death sentence.

The wise choice would’ve been to leave. Walk away. Escape while he still had kneecaps.

And yet—

Han Yu stood his ground.

A storm of defiance swirled behind his eyes.

"Even if it costs me my soul, I’ll become a cultivator!" Han Yu swore, his voice trembling but unyielding.

The words weren’t loud, but they carried weight. Determination. Fire.

A foolish, stubborn, soul-scorching fire.

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