Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 217: Facing Some Rock Tusk Boars

The Bird Beast struck the ground with explosive force.

Dust flew. Rocks cracked. Something screamed.

A moment later, the creature—a bird-like beast easily ten meters from beak to tail—rose into the air again, carrying a hyena the size of a tiger in its talons.

Han Yu’s jaw dropped.

The beast rose into the sky, wings beating like thunder, and then swallowed the hyena whole with one tilt of its head.

He slowly turned and looked around the plateau again, suddenly feeling very small.

"That thing has to be... Nascent Soul realm. Or at least Peak Core Condensation."

It didn’t really matter which. Either way—

"If it sees me, I’m bird chow."

He immediately dropped to one knee and rolled behind a large rock, watching the beast disappear into the sky. Only when it was just a speck did he breathe again.

"Why does everything in this region want to eat things the size of carriages?" he muttered, clutching the side of his head. "And why am I the small thing in every scenario?"

Still, he didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t afford to. The Caldera was his next goal, and every moment spent dawdling increased the risk of being spotted—either by patrols or by airborne death talons.

He kept to lower ground where he could. Moved from cover to cover like a squirrel who owed someone money. Drank water sparingly from nearby ponds that were thankfully clean enough. Rested in short bursts. Eyes always scanning the horizon for feathers, scales, or anything with too many teeth.

As the sun dipped closer to the mountains and the Caldera loomed larger in the distance, Han Yu murmured to himself, "I better get those ashes... and a big reward after this."

He had no idea what awaited him at the Slumbering Caldera—but if it was anything like what he’d already endured, one thing was certain.

It wouldn’t be boring.

RUMBLE

Han Yu’s stomach growled like a cornered beast as he trudged over the cracked, blistering stone path of the volcanic plateau. He clutched his glaive tighter, eyes scanning the horizon, when the ground beneath him thudded.

A rumble. Then another. Then— SKREEEEE!!

From behind a pile of jagged stone, a pair of Rock Tusk Boars burst forth, their heavy, stone-plated bodies covered in dust and old scars. One let out a guttural squeal before charging, tusks glinting like jagged obsidian.

Han Yu didn’t panic.

He’d seen worse.

But then came more.

Three. Four. Seven of them. Charging from various angles, dirt spraying from their hooves, eyes red with aggression.

"Are you serious?" he muttered. "Can’t even have a quiet death march through volcanic hell without a boar parade?"

The boars were early to mid Qi Refining realm, tough enough to be annoying but not strong enough to match his current strength one-on-one. But their numbers—and the way they tried to flank him—meant this wasn’t going to be a stroll.

Han Yu leapt onto a boulder, using the high ground to avoid the first crashing charge. Dust exploded where a boar slammed its head against the rock.

"Too slow," Han Yu muttered, spinning his glaive.

The weapon gleamed in the sun, and with a sharp whistle, he launched into motion.

He twirled the glaive like a windmill, slicing clean through the side of a charging boar, its rock armor offering no help under his precise strikes and his Mid Grade Spirit Glaive. Another boar lunged from behind, but he rolled forward, kicked off a smaller rock, and swept his glaive upward in an arc—cleaving the beast’s throat mid-leap.

Three down. Four more.

They weren’t intelligent—but they were angry, and the blood of their kin only made them fiercer.

"Don’t you guys ever get tired?" he snapped as he dodged another strike, barely avoiding being skewered by a tusk the size of his arm.

He baited two of them toward a narrow crevice between boulders, then dashed up one side of the rock wall. The boars followed, dumb and single-minded—and just as they came through the choke point, Han Yu dropped from above and impaled one with his glaive, pinning it down and slashing the other across the eyes.

Breathing hard, blood staining his boots and sleeves, Han Yu finally stood over the last twitching boar.

"...that’s all of them," he muttered.

His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but exhaustion. He hadn’t used any of his Li Mei Pills, not wanting to waste them on low-level beasts. He only had a few left, and they were too precious to squander.

Still, he was smiling.

"Meat," he said with almost reverence. "Finally. Real. Cookable. Meat."

Han Yu dragged two of the smaller boars across the plateau, eventually finding a narrow steam vent—a crack in the earth that belched warm air and sulfur-scented smoke. The vent would help him cook and hide the fire from airborne threats.

There was no wood. No dry bushes. Nothing green even resembling fuel.

But there was dried beast dung. Plenty of it.

"Who knew my time as a servant would pay off like this," he muttered, grabbing a handful and shaping it into a fuel pile like he was back in the Twin Leaf Peak kitchens.

He lit the fire, careful to keep it small and contained in a ring of flat stones. It took time, but eventually, the crackling fire warmed him, and the sizzling meat was a scent straight from heaven.

He grilled slices of boar meat, watching the fat drip and sizzle over the fire. Each bite was greasy, gamey, and glorious.

"Better than spirit beast stew. Better than anything," he said between bites. "Screw Cloudcrane Pavilion’s fancy banquets. This is living."

He sat by the fire, chewing meat with both hands, eyes heavy, knees weak, back sore, but—for the first time in over a week—he wasn’t starving, wheezing, or running from monsters.

As he ate, the realization hit him—how dangerously low his reserves had gotten. He’d been running on pure willpower, adrenaline, and the ever-present fear of death.