Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 308: The Aftermath

The truth was undeniable:

Murong Xie had orchestrated a secret operation to extract Spirit Stones from an undisclosed mine located on sect territory—without approval from the sect council and without paying the tribute.

He had used disciples loyal to his faction and tried to smuggle the spirit stones out under the guise of a sanctioned mission. Worse, the samples had already been evaluated by outside parties, suggesting he was ready to either sell or use them without giving the sect its rightful claim.

The internal fury of the Twin Leaf Peak Sect boiled to a crescendo.

Han Yu felt it all—rage, betrayal, deep-rooted frustration. The elders, many of whom had once turned a blind eye to Murong Xie’s factionalism, now found themselves in a position where they had to take action or lose all face.

The sect’s Main Hall had become a furnace of emotions, releasing thick waves of Eight Emotions Energy. Anger from the elders, disgust from the inner disciples, anxiety from the Murong faction loyalists, and bitter despair from the disciples who had unknowingly been tools in a doomed plan.

Even Murong Xie’s own spiritual pressure was beginning to destabilize. Han Yu, tuned as he was to Soul Qi, could feel the tension emanating from his secondary courtyard like a decaying corpse buried under a thin sheet of silk.

"I wonder how long he’ll last," Han Yu murmured one evening as he sipped chilled spirit tea beneath the moonlight.

Chitterfang sat nearby, tail twitching, as if mirroring the latent anticipation in the air.

The rats continued to bring updates.

"Murong Xie’s tiger beast has been seized by the Beast Hall elders. They say it’s under examination for illegal bloodline enhancement."

"His faction’s outer court supply lines have been frozen."

"Murong Clan elders sent a representative to speak with the sect’s Council... he was denied entry."

Each tidbit was more damning than the last.

Han Yu didn’t rejoice—at least, not visibly. But he did feel a quiet satisfaction. This wasn’t just a victory. It was a message. He had dismantled a powerful disciples scheme, exposed factional corruption, and empowered the sect’s discipline from the shadows.

No one knew he was behind it.

But their emotions did.

And their emotions belonged to him now. All the Soul Qi he had exhausted in testing his Soul Skills was not only replenished but multiplied.

With his Soul Qi reservoir having grown stronger than ever before, and his foundation deepening with every pulse of fury and despair, Han Yu turned his eyes back toward cultivation.

The fall of Murong Xie was only the beginning.

After the initial chaos, a few days passed in relative peace.

For Han Yu, it felt like the storm had finally passed.

The spiritual chaos that had gripped the sect during the investigation into Murong Xie had calmed. The air no longer buzzed with rage or fear; the Eight Emotions Energy now flowed in a steady, manageable rhythm. Han Yu himself had entered a stable cultivation state, his Soul Qi refined and tempered by the storm he’d secretly orchestrated.

His mind was clear. His foundation steady. His ambitions—sharpened.

The threat of Murong Xie? All but gone.

It was official now: Murong Xie had been placed under strict supervision. The disciplinary records hadn’t been publicly posted, but enough details had leaked through gossipy disciples and bold eavesdroppers to paint a full picture. The punishment was light—too light by most standards. But it made sense.

Murong Xie wasn’t just any disciple. He was that kind of disciple. The one with the right master, the right backing, the right potential.

His crimes may have included unauthorized operations, smuggling sect resources, and possibly even conspiracy against the internal economy of the Twin Leaf Peak Sect...

But his future had once included a seat among the sect’s Legacy Disciples.

And so instead of being expelled or crippled, he had been sealed away—thrown into intense seclusion under the direct supervision of his own master: High Elder Kun Ming.

A man with little patience and even less tolerance for humiliation. He might have given Murong Xie free reign at first due to his talent and demeanour, but he soon realized it might have been the wrong choice.

Han Yu had already gathered the whole tale, of course. News like that didn’t stay contained for long—especially not when it was accompanied by a spiritual outburst loud enough to shake half the Inner Sect mountain.

He had been meditating under his peach tree when it happened:

"Murong Xie! You disgrace! You won’t leave until you break through to the Nascent Soul Realm! I’ll see you climb out of that pit or die trying!"

That had been the old man’s voice—Kun Ming’s spiritual projection booming down from the heavens like thunder. Han Yu had opened one eye and chuckled softly.

Thousands of disciples had heard the man’s voice along with Han Yu, many laughing in schadenfreudes.

Apparently, the high elder had not taken kindly to being blindsided by his own disciple’s misdeeds. While the elder wasn’t publicly reprimanded—after all, even the sect wouldn’t humiliate a high elder over a junior’s crimes—it was clear that his prestige had taken a blow.

And so the solution was simple: discipline the junior harshly. Restore reputation through visible correction.

Murong Xie was now trapped in a reinforced seclusion array within one of the elder’s private cultivation domains, surrounded by formation pillars that would trigger if he tried to escape or slack off.

Rumor had it that he was being forced through day-and-night spiritual combat drills, fed only raw spirit herbs, and not allowed to sleep without completing several rounds of qi compression exercises.

Some even joked that he’d already aged ten years in three days.

Han Yu had mixed feelings.

On one hand, it was satisfying. Seeing a snake like Murong Xie humbled, his schemes collapsed, his dreams of easy advancement now replaced with sweat and blood—it was karmic justice.

On the other hand...

"He’s not gone yet," Han Yu murmured as he stirred his tea, seated quietly in his courtyard. "Just buried deeper."