Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time
Chapter 92: A Tiny Alchemist, Rat Courtship And Exterminators

Chapter 92: A Tiny Alchemist, Rat Courtship And Exterminators

Han Yu flinched hearing the girls words. "Uhh..."

"And faintly... spirit rat aura?" The girl sensed with her abilities.

"Look, kid, I don’t know what a rat aura smells like, but—"

She grabbed his wrist. "You’re perfect."

"...For what?"

"To test my next batch of rat-enhanced spirit pill prototypes."

Han Yu paled. "I’d like to unsubscribe." He was most certainly not going to get involved in something like this, especially when he was just a servant.

Han Yu yanked his wrist free and staggered back. "I—I’m flattered, truly, but I’ve recently decided to give up all pill testing that might cause spontaneous combustion. It’s a personal growth thing."

The tiny alchemist girl narrowed her eyes. "You will be compensated with three pickled plum candies and half a spirit ration."

"Still no!"

She pulled out a small pouch and opened it. Inside were about a dozen spirit pills, all glowing faintly and vibrating with barely-contained chaos. One of them burped purple smoke.

Han Yu turned and ran. He completely forgot about the rules of servants, especially the one about never saying no to a disciple.

Behind him, the girl shouted, "You can’t outrun destiny! Or science!"

Han Yu bolted around the corner and almost slipped on a patch of mud, only to see a familiar tail twitching nearby.

"Chitterfang!" Han Yu gasped. "Help! There’s a small alchemist and she wants to experiment on me, or worse: cook me!"

Chitterfang, perched atop a broken gourd, looked up with sage-like calm. He adjusted the acorn fragment strapped over one eye like a monocle and squeaked a greeting.

"What’s going on?" Han Yu asked between gasps.

Chitterfang waved his tiny paws and gestured toward a gathering near the mole tunnels beneath the herb garden. There, a dozen spirit rats had assembled, clustered around their general.

General Chitterfang, war hero and cheese hoarder, was nervously adjusting his fur and combing his whiskers. Across from him sat his new object of affection—a dignified female mole wearing a violet flower tucked behind one ear and a stone necklace of great age and significance.

Han Yu blinked. "Is... is he courting her?"

A nearby rat, scribbling on a leaf, squeaked affirmatively.

"Oh no," Han Yu groaned. "Please tell me this doesn’t involve an epic poem."

Too late. Chitterfang was already unfurling a scroll and squeaking theatrically.

Han Yu read the rough translation from the nearest rat who was holding a tiny scroll:

"Oh burrowed beauty of the velvet paw,

Your tunnels stir my heart’s gnaw-gnaw..."

Han Yu winced. "I regret being literate."

But before the poem could descend further into fuzzy passion, a panicked scout rat rushed in, skidding across the grass and squeaking frantically.

The rat scribe’s ears drooped. "Emergency. Extermination squad incoming. Formation brooms."

Han Yu froze. "Wait. Formation brooms?" having spent enough time with the rats, Han Yu managed to understand their ’sign language’.

"Yes," squeaked the scribe rat before rapidly writing down on a leaf with the speed of an experienced scholar. "Infused with spirit ink and cleansing talismans. Designed to sweep out spiritual vermin. Deadly to rat kind."

Looking at the writing, Han Yu couldn’t help but think the rat had better handwriting than him.

Han Yu’s mind raced. "Where?"

The rat pointed up toward the cliff path above the bamboo groves. Already, distant voices were echoing—disciples laughing and chatting as they tested their new enchanted brooms on unsuspecting pests.

They were outer court disciples that took care of cleaning duties within the main peaks where normal servants were now allowed entry. As such, they were basically subject to the duties of common servants there, albeit with better tools.

General Chitterfang stood tall—well, tall for a rat—and gave a determined squeak. He snapped a command. Rats began to scatter, some heading into secret tunnels, others grabbing bits of spirit moss and repellent herbs. It was a retreat operation.

"No," Han Yu said. "They’ll never make it in time. That path leads right over the sacred pool!"

The mole, the flower still tucked primly behind one ear, stomped forward and squeaked in fury. She began clawing at the dirt.

"She’s digging an escape tunnel," the rat scribe said reverently which Han Yu barely understood from the expressions. "A noble sacrifice."

Han Yu took a breath. "Not on my watch."

He turned, sprinted back to the alchemy girl, who was now trying to coax a lizard into swallowing a pill with a slice of fruit.

"You! Tiny terror!"

She looked up. "Are you here to reconsider testing?"

"I’ll do it—if you help me."

She squinted. "How help?"

"I need smoke bombs. Hallucinogen gas. Anything to confuse a group of formation broom-holding disciples."

She grinned. "I have frog venom incense."

"...Close enough."

Ten minutes later, as the disciples reached the edge of the bamboo grove, ready to swing their sparkling formation brooms, the ground exploded in a puff of pink mist. Within moments, they were coughing, stumbling, and hallucinating vividly.

One disciple screamed, "The squirrels have revolted! I see them riding koi!"

Another ran into a tree, shrieking about cheese manifesting sentience.

And through the confusion, the rats and mole made their escape, carrying the sacred pool’s crystal vial in their tiny paws.

Later, back in the hidden burrow sanctum, Han Yu sat with Chitterfang and the mole, now apparently dating. Rat society had been saved. Again.

A ceremonial snack was placed before him—an offering of three roasted peanuts and a tiny rice dumpling.

The scribe cleared his throat and, in formal tones, recited:

"Let it be remembered,

On the seventh tunnel of the fourth cheese moon,

Han Yu of the Big Feet saved the Ratfolk once more."

Of course Han Yu understood nothing and simply peeked at the writing on the scroll before saluting with a roasted peanut.

"...Also," the scribe added, "he finally learned the sacred creed of our kind."

Han Yu cleared his throat and spoke solemnly:

Cheese is love.

Cheese is life.

Tunnels are divine.

Tunnels are enshrined.

Betrayal comes with peanut butter.

We scurry with purpose, tails held high,

Past crumbs of glory and crusts gone dry.

Whiskers twitch with noble grace,

In every wall, we find a place.

From pantry raids to midnight feasts,

We’re nimble-fingered, cheese-obsessed beasts.

Our kingdom lies where cultivators fear—

Behind the pantry, beneath the gear.

A cracker crumbles—swift we pounce!

A single squeak, and twelve will bounce.

Our legends carved in gnawed-out wood:

"The cheddar’s sharp, the life is good."

But hush! Beware the sticky doom,

That peanut-scented, globby tomb.

One lick, one sniff—then SNAP, you’re caught,

A lesson every young rat’s taught.

Yet still we roam, with hearts so bold,

Through tunnels dark and crumbs gone cold.

For cheese is love, and love we chase,

In every cupboard, every place.

Long live the rats! Long live the maze!

We rule beneath your talisman arrays!

So if you see a flash of tail—

Offer brie, not spirit stone trail."

The rats squeaked in solemn approval.

Somewhere on the alchemy peak, the small girl scribbled something into her notebook.

"Subject #H.Y. exhibits strong compatibility with rodent-based spiritual energies... Potential future test subject for Rat-Refined Physique Pills."

Han Yu sneezed.

He had a bad feeling about tomorrow.