Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 149: Cost Of Skills

Han Yu sobered. He remembered the crushing grief he had felt at the bottom of the ravine—the cold emptiness, the despair that gnawed at him day and night. That sadness had become a part of him, and it now formed the bulk of his Soul Qi reserves.

If he wasn’t careful, he could fall prey to the very emotions that gave him strength.

"I need balance," he muttered.

The joy wisps he’d received earlier were precious, and rare. Unlike sadness, which came in floods, or surprise, which flitted in moments, joy was elusive. Genuine, bright moments that lit the soul were harder to come by.

"I need more experiences. More interactions... more people," Han Yu mused aloud. "But I can’t draw too much attention yet."

He stood, stretching his limbs.

His thoughts drifted back to the sect. The Elders were still keeping an eye on him. Rumors had not died down—in fact, the more silent he remained, the more speculation arose. There were whispers of secret inheritances, forbidden techniques, divine blessings.

Let them think what they wanted.

As long as they didn’t know the truth.

He glanced at the sky. The sun was climbing higher. He had at least a few more hours before the next round of inquisitive visitors arrived.

"I should try Memory Echo next," he decided. "It was the second technique in the fragment."

From the descriptions he’d recovered, Memory Echo was a defensive soul technique. It allowed the user to replay a powerful emotional memory at the moment of danger—manifesting it as a barrier of willpower. Against attacks that targeted the spirit or mind, it could form a wall.

But first, he had to choose the right memory.

Han Yu sat down again and placed his hands on his knees, closing his eyes. He sifted through his memories.

Pain.

Loss.

Suffering.

But then—

A faint laugh. A meal shared with Fatty Kui and Dan Hu when they were still just kids. A moment of kindness from Elder Sister Mei who had once covered for him during his chores. The thrill of his first successful cultivation technique, learning the Bolt God Fist.

Those were the sparks of light. The roots of his joy and surprise energies.

He focused on the clearest one: the moment he realized he had survived the fall. Alone, broken, on the edge of death—when he saw the first light seep into the dark ravine and realized he was still breathing.

"I survived."

That memory surged through him like a tide, tinged with pain, awe, and fierce defiance.

"Let this be my shield."

The memory swelled inside him, then solidified. A translucent film shimmered around his body briefly before fading.

He had created the barrier.

It wouldn’t hold long. A few seconds, maybe. But in battle, a few seconds could mean the difference between victory and death.

The skill might not protect him physically, but against mental attacks it would be his saving grace. After all, that was the one thing he needed to protect himself against. He could rely on the Undying Life Charm to save him from physical death, but if his soul perished, he would truly be dead.

"I’ll keep refining it," Han Yu murmured.

He looked toward the gates of the courtyard again.

Sooner or later, someone would come with questions he couldn’t deflect. Elders, enforcers, enemies—he’d need more than clever lies to stay ahead.

He’d need power. Real power.

And with the Soul Qi techniques and skills, he finally had the tools to get it.

Han Yu released a slow breath as the shimmering veil of Memory Echo faded. Though brief, the technique had drained him more than he expected. His chest tightened, not from pain, but from a hollow tug deep within his soul.

He frowned. "That took... a lot."

He sat cross-legged, entering a meditative state again to assess the loss. Within his Soul Sea, the wisps of Soul Qi were fewer than before—noticeably so. Nearly half of his reserve had been consumed by just two techniques: the Soul Needle and Memory Echo. He had barely scratched the surface of soul cultivation, and yet the toll was already severe.

"These techniques are powerful," Han Yu muttered, "but I can’t be careless."

Soul Qi was unlike Spirit Qi. It didn’t regenerate as naturally, and its sources were far more elusive. It could not be drawn from the atmosphere, nor could it be stored in spirit stones or drawn from pills. It had to be cultivated from within—from intense emotional experiences, distilled into Eight Emotions Energy, then refined into usable Soul Qi.

And right now, Han Yu had very little of it.

"Damn," he said under his breath. "So even if I can make a Soul Needle that strikes the mind... I can’t keep throwing them out like candy."

The realization struck hard. His excitement over the power had almost blinded him to its cost. Unlike Qi cultivators who could absorb spiritual energy constantly, his strength depended on living—on feeling.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the clear sky.

"It’s not just about learning the techniques," he muttered. "It’s about managing them. Surviving long enough to build them up."

Every use of Soul Qi had to count. There would be no second chances if he spent it recklessly.

Even now, he could feel the slight fatigue pressing down on his spirit. Not physical exhaustion, but a spiritual weariness—like something vital had been tapped and needed time to recover.

Han Yu slowly stood, brushing the dust off his robes. His movements were slower now, deliberate. There was no room for brash decisions, no room for meaningless fights.

"I need more Soul Qi... and that means more emotion," he thought grimly. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

By now he had at least figured out that the Eight Emotions Energy came from the other people.

But he couldn’t just force it. Fake emotions didn’t work. They had to be real. He had to feel them—live them. Only then could he harvest their essence.

He began pacing the courtyard, his hands behind his back.

"How do I gather more without revealing myself?" he mused aloud. "I can’t keep hiding forever, but I can’t draw attention either. Not yet."