Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 159: Reducing His Footprint

"...It couldn’t have been a disciple. That kind of energy isn’t something I’ve seen before... Where would it even come from?... unless..." she narrowed her eyes. "Unless one of the outer sect alchemists was experimenting again?"

She turned to Luo Feng—who was still wringing out his soaked robes while shouting furiously at two Outer Court disciples.

"Bring me the one responsible! I’ll make him eat the urn!"

Elder Liu sighed and walked away. The sect had always had eccentrics. Maybe this was just another one.

But the suspicion lingered. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Back in his courtyard, Han Yu exhaled deeply and leaned against the wall, allowing the laughter-inducing adrenaline to settle in his bones.

"Too close. Waaay too close," he muttered, still remembering how Elder Liu Feiyan had turned her gaze toward him like a hawk spotting prey.

Luckily for Han Yu, nobody could sense the Soul Qi or Eight Emotions Energy. Even when it leaked from his body for a brief moment, it had merely appeared as a vague ripple, a visual anomaly—nothing substantial to anyone else.

If Soul Cultivation was widely known or studied, someone might’ve noticed. But to everyone else, he was just some weirdo possibly using a strange alchemy tool or illusion technique.

"I really need to refine the Soul Qi better. The damn thing trickled out like steam from a cracked kettle," Han Yu grumbled, sitting cross-legged and beginning his breathing exercises.

He let the gathered Red wisps of Wrath, gray strands of Surprise, and a tiny yellow flicker of Joy flow toward his dantian. The moment they touched the core of his being, they twisted, burned, and coalesced into Soul Qi, sinking into the growing, translucent orb at the center of his soul.

"Mnngh—! Damn, it’s still inefficient," he winced. The emotions still took a lot of energy to process. "And even using Soul Qi costs way too much. At this rate, I can’t waste any of it."

It was like trying to fuel a fire with rare incense—powerful but expensive and fleeting.

His mind turned back to the source: people. He had to provoke or inspire strong feelings in others—enough to squeeze the energy from them like juice from a plum.

He grinned at the thought. "I can’t brute-force this. I have to be strategic. Play it smart."

He needed the kind of reactions that only true social chaos could generate.

Han Yu cracked his knuckles. "Time to get creative."

Later That Afternoon

Han Yu wandered the Outer Court walkways disguised in a loose overcoat and crooked hat, his face partially hidden. Not because anyone was suspicious of him—but because he was up to no good.

He spotted a group of disciples sitting beneath a plum blossom tree, enjoying their tea and chatting about the recent oddities in the sect—exploding alchemy labs, slipping inner sect disciples, and suspicious laughing fits.

Perfect.

As he casually strolled past the group, he tripped slightly—very slightly—and "accidentally" dumped an entire bottle of Skunk Musk Gland Oil into their tea pot.

"Wha—what is this smell?!" one of them gagged. "Who put a dead spirit pig in my tea!?"

The chaos was immediate. Cups flew, robes were ruined, and shouting broke out.

Han Yu moved away with practiced calm, turning a corner before anyone got a good look at him. His grin widened as several gray wisps of surprise, a few thin red ones of anger, and even a small yellow flicker of laughter spiraled invisibly around him and soaked into his soul.

"Now that was efficient," he said proudly.

Back in the Inner Sect

Meanwhile, Elder Liu Feiyan stood beside Elder Nie Jing as the two examined a heavily cracked cauldron from the alchemy pavilion. The ground around it was still faintly blackened with scorch marks and pollen-like glitter.

"The disciples reported uncontrollable laughter, tears, and temporary hallucinations of dancing pinecones," Elder Nie said, massaging his temples.

Elder Liu narrowed her eyes. "And you still think it was an alchemical mishap?"

Nie Jing snorted. "It had to be. Nothing else explains it. Someone must have gotten their formulas mixed up."

"There have been three other ’incidents’ since," she replied flatly. "Unexplained slips, strange powders, surprise explosions... something is going on. And I’ll find out what."

But even she had no way to track emotion-based energy—not when no such system officially existed in any known cultivation manual. To them, it was all coincidence. Pranks. Unusual mistakes.

Soul Cultivators were incredibly rare even in the Immortal worlds. And this was just a mortal world, thus the chances of anyone even knowing about them were low. Not to mention, them being able to sense Soul Qi or the even more elusive Eight Emotions Energy.

At the very least, Soul Qi was still a type of qi, possible for someone to sense using a tool, rare skill, or even a formation. But the Eight Emotions Energy was something entirely unknown to the masses.

Plus the way the energy wisps moved was quite scattered and it came from different people as well. Even Han Yu had a hard time tracking them, so others would simply find it impossible.

Which was exactly how Han Yu liked it. As long as he stayed under the radar, he could enjoy a great harvest at the cost of a bit of chaos and emotional turmoil.

That evening...

Han Yu returned to his courtyard in high spirits.

He had gathered more Soul Qi today than in the last few days combined. His refined understanding of how to provoke emotions—not too much, not too little—was finally paying off.

But it wasn’t just chaos he wanted.

"Eventually... I’ll have to learn how to inspire love... devotion... awe," he muttered, staring up at the moon.

Not just fear or anger. Not just laughter. He needed all eight. The full spectrum.

"Still," he mused with a self-satisfied grin, "I think I’m doing alright for a dead man."

A loud boom echoed somewhere in the distance. Someone shouted, "Who put chili powder in the laundry basin?!"

Han Yu leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Showtime."