Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 761: Reaching The Top And Return

The Spirit lamps emitted a dangerous light.

Han Yu knew even these mundane looking spirit lamps were in fact part of an offensive arrays. These lamps could very well turn into sentry turrents if a threat was detected.

Chitterfang avoided it instinctively, slipping between snowbanks and hugging the bases of buildings. Where snow was thick, he tunneled through it, his small body disappearing beneath the surface like a fish through water. Where stone dominated, he clung to shadows, darting from cover to cover.

Human activity here was far greater than below.

Even at this late hour, figures moved along the paths. Elders in heavy robes passed silently, their footsteps barely audible. Disciples moved with purpose, some alone, some in pairs, their expressions serious and focused.

Chitterfang did not recognize ranks or faces, but he could feel the weight of their presence. These were not the hot-blooded, reckless disciples of the outer peaks.

These were people who belonged here.

As Chitterfang reached the ninth gate, everything changed.

The gate itself was not a physical structure like the others. There was no arch, no door, no visible barrier. It was simply a line in space, marked by two frost-carved pillars standing several meters apart. Between them, the air shimmered faintly, as if distorted by heat, though the cold here was intense.

Chitterfang stepped forward.

The moment his paw crossed the invisible threshold, a wave of pressure slammed down on him.

SHUA

It was not pain.

It was awareness.

Something vast and cold brushed over his body, probing, inspecting, weighing. It felt like a gaze without eyes, like a mind skimming across his existence. Chitterfang froze completely, muscles locked, heart hammering so hard he thought it might burst.

Fear overwhelmed him.

He trembled, a tiny, uncontrollable shudder rippling through his body. A warm wetness spread beneath him as his bladder gave way, instinct overwhelming dignity. For a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, he was certain this was the end.

Han Yu felt it too.

The sudden surge of fear, the crushing presence, the razor-thin line between discovery and oblivion. His fingers tightened around the fishing rod back at the bridge, knuckles whitening, though outwardly he remained still.

"Hold," he whispered inwardly. "Do nothing."

Seconds passed.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pressure vanished.

The invisible presence withdrew, leaving behind only cold air and silence. To whatever was watching, Chitterfang was nothing. No Qi fluctuation. No hostile intent. No meaningful mass. A piece of vermin that had somehow wandered too far.

The formation lost interest.

Chitterfang collapsed forward slightly, chest heaving, paws shaking. He did not move for a long moment, terrified that the slightest motion might draw the attention back.

"It's gone," he finally sent, his mental voice small and shaken. "Very scary."

Han Yu exhaled slowly, carefully.

"I know," he replied. "You did well. There's no visible danger?"

"No," Chitterfang answered after a pause. "Nothing I can see."

"Proceed," Han Yu instructed. "Slow. Careful."

Beyond the ninth gate, the world changed again.

There was no snow here at all.

A massive palace dominated the area, its walls carved from pale blue-white stone that glimmered faintly, as if ice and crystal had been fused together. The structure rose several stories high, its architecture severe and elegant, every line purposeful. Frost Qi hung thick in the air, so dense that even Chitterfang's breath came out in tiny white puffs.

This was the domain of the Peak Head.

There were no human servants.

Instead, puppets moved everywhere.

Some were humanoid, their movements smooth and precise, carrying trays, adjusting lanterns, opening and closing doors. Others were more abstract, wheeled constructs that glided silently across the floor, cleaning and maintaining the surface.

Smaller spider-like puppets crawled along walls and ceilings, inspecting formation lines and repairing minute cracks in the formations.

Chitterfang slipped between them, keeping low, heart racing.

One puppet noticed him.

It was a simple maintenance construct, squat and cylindrical, with a faintly glowing core embedded in its side. Its head rotated, lenses focusing, and it began to trundle toward him.

Chitterfang bolted.

He sprinted across the stone floor, claws skidding, then leapt onto a nearby pillar. With desperate speed, he climbed, scrabbling up carved grooves until he reached the rafters near the ceiling. The puppet followed to the base of the pillar, bumped against it once, then stopped.

It tilted its head.

Waited.

Then, lacking intelligence and any directive to pursue vermin, it turned away and resumed its assigned route.

Chitterfang stayed frozen for a long time, pressed flat against the beam, heart pounding like a drum.

Finally, he moved again.

Sniffing the air carefully, he followed the faintest trace of human scent. There was only one here, far stronger than the rest, permeating the palace like a silent declaration of ownership.

He climbed higher, moving along rafters, slipping outside through narrow architectural gaps, scaling carved stone with practiced ease. At last, he reached the highest balcony of the palace.

It was quiet.

A small table stood near the railing, flanked by two chairs carved from ice-veined stone. Beyond the closed door behind them, a powerful presence radiated steadily, contained, controlled.

Chitterfang approached the door, then stopped.

"There's a wall," he told Han Yu. "Can't go in."

Han Yu nodded, even though the rat could not see it.

"That's enough," he replied. "You've done more than enough. Come back."

Chitterfang hesitated, then turned around, relief flooding through his small body as he began his careful retreat.

Back at the bridge, Han Yu continued fishing, expression calm, as if nothing of consequence had occurred at all.

But inside, his mind was already moving.

The balcony.

The table.

The chairs.

That was all he needed.

After all, he didn't need Chitterfang to go straight inside to deliver the message. Even if it was left on the table outside, he was sure the Peak Head would notice it eventually.

And now that Chitterfang had scouted out the route, all that was left was to actually bring the letter through the same path he had taken.