Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time Chapter 169: Xu Qing’s Whereabouts

In the days following Fatty Kui’s loud and dumpling-scented reunion, Han Yu found himself lying atop a sunny hill behind the servant quarters, arms folded behind his head and a sour expression etched on his face.

"Fatty Kui ca back... Li i found ... even the elders have stopped breathing down my neck," he muttered. "So where in the twelve sacred dumpling heavens is Senior Sister Xu Qing?"

He clicked his tongue and furrowed his brows.

It had been bothering him for a while.

From the very mont he had rejoined the sect, Han Yu had expected—hoped, really—that Xu Qing might show up. Not that he was particularly sentintal or anything. But she had been the first cultivator he had t and also the one who had brought him to the sect in the first place/

While she had beaten him up, threatened to drop him from her flying sword, she was still the reason why he was a cultivator today. Xu Qing had treated him like a human being. She even stood up for him once.

So when he died in that ravine and ca back to life, a small part of him wondered if she’d at least ask about him.

But she hadn’t.

Not a word. No visit. No letter. Nothing.

At first, he assud she was disappointed by his talent. Maybe she didn’t want to associate with soone at the bottom of the cultivation ladder. Blue Grade talent only ca after he’d eaten a buffet of mystery herbs, after all.

But now?

Now Han Yu was sothing else entirely.

So where was she?

With a small frown, Han Yu decided to investigate. It was easy enough to sneak into the Mission Pavilion and bribe a certain sleepy disciple on duty with a spicy chicken bun and a spirit stone.

The truth about Xu Qing was within his reach.

"Senior Sister Xu Qing?" the sleepy disciple mumbled between bites. "Ah... I rember that na. She took a long-term external sect mission last year."

Han Yu perked up. "What kind of mission?"

"Escort mission to the Eastern Flow Province. High difficulty, long duration. A year or more."

Han Yu’s brow twitched. "Why would she take that kind of mission? I thought she hated leaving the sect."

"She does," the disciple replied casually, licking so sauce off his fingers. "But I heard there were... other reasons."

"What kind of reasons?"

"Gossip, mostly. Sothing about her losing a bet with Brother Wei."

Han Yu’s ears imdiately shot up like rabbit ears catching wind of thunder. "A bet?"

"Yeah, yeah. One of those ’if I win, you do this’ kind of things. Apparently, she lost and had to go on a date with Senior Brother Sun from the inner court."

Han Yu blinked. "...Wait, the guy who calls himself the ’Hungry Sword’ and sneezed into his own scabbard?"

"That’s the one."

Han Yu rubbed his temples. "And she went on a year-long mission to avoid him?"

"Yup. Picked the most remote mission she could find and vanished before the poor guy even picked out a robe."

Han Yu whistled low. "That’s... so serious commitnt."

"No idea when she’s coming back either," the disciple added, already reaching for the last bite of the chicken bun. "Could be months. Could be longer."

Later, Back on the Hill

Han Yu sat cross-legged, staring off into the distance with a half-smile tugging at his lips.

"So she didn’t ghost because of my terrible talent. She ghosted everyone because she’d rather face bandits and rogue cultivators than go on a date."

He chuckled to himself.

"That... yeah, that’s exactly the kind of person she is."

It was oddly comforting to know she hadn’t changed.

Still, a small part of him was disappointed. He had wanted to show her how far he’d co. How much stronger and more ridiculous he had beco.

Well, maybe she’d return eventually.

And when she did, she’d be greeted not by the weak little servant she once knew, but by a walking disaster with a Blue Grade talent, a buffet of stolen vault items in his stomach, and an increasingly absurd collection of antics.

A few days later...

It was a quiet afternoon. Han Yu was once again enjoying his well-earned leisure ti—lounging under the peach blossom tree behind the pill refinent pavilion, chewing on a low grade stalk of spiritual grass like a wandering philosopher goat.

That peace, of course, did not last.

"Senior Brother Han Yu!"

Han Yu’s eyes twitched open as a familiar round figure waddled into view, carrying a bundle of neatly folded laundry that looked suspiciously out of place in the alchemy courtyard.

"Fatty Kui Number Two?" Han Yu sat up, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

Fatty Kui—Number Two, the faithful servant—looked left and right like a spy delivering state secrets.

"I ca to deliver laundry!" he said, a little too loudly.

Han Yu raised a brow. "To the pill refinent courtyard?"

"Yes!" he nodded furiously. "So senior disciple here sweated into his alchemy robes. Terrible tragedy. The stench was... truly unholy."

Han Yu stared at him for a mont, then grinned. "You just wanted to co see , didn’t you?"

Fatty Kui’s shoulders slumped like a popped stead bun. "I missed you, Brother Han Yu. We haven’t talked properly since you moved out of the servant quarters... You’ve beco so important now."

"Tch." Han Yu waved him off. "Important? I nearly got kicked out of the sect twice since returning."

"Still, you’ve changed," Fatty Kui said with genuine admiration. "You’re stronger, and taller, and shinier."

"Shinier?"

"Yes. Your hair is glossier. Do you oil it now?"

"I—wait, what?"

Before Han Yu could ask whether he was being complinted or insulted, another familiar voice rang out.

"Brother Han Yu! There you are!"

In walked Fatty Kui Number One—the proud new outer sect disciple—his robes still a size too small and his spiritual aura puffing slightly from having climbed a hill.

Han Yu blinked once, then twice, then looked between the two rotund figures.