Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 601: Night At The Village

"Lead the way," Han Yu replied.

The villagers parted instantly, bowing deeply as the elder guided him down a narrow path toward the back of the village.

The guest house was simple but surprisingly tidy. It sat behind a few larger homes and near a small cluster of fruit trees. Its courtyard gate was open, revealing a clean path that had been swept only moments earlier in a hurry.

The courtyard itself was larger than Han Yu expected. There was a small pond that reflected the evening sky, a few patches of flowers blooming around its edge, and a line of pebbles leading up to a wooden building.

Inside the courtyard stood the main house. It had a living room and two bedrooms. Behind it were two smaller structures, one serving as a kitchen and the other clearly meant as a toilet. The roofs were slightly worn, but everything looked functional and hospitable.

The elder bowed again.

"We apologize that this humble place is unworthy of someone of your station. However, it is the finest we can offer."

Han Yu inspected it briefly and responded in a calm, cold tone.

"It is acceptable for one night."

The elder let out a visible breath of relief.

"We will prepare food at once. If you desire anything more, simply give the word. Our village will answer your every wish."

Han Yu only nodded, stepping into the courtyard.

As the elder backed away with bowed head, the villagers outside resumed their hushed whispering.

"Do you think he will stay long?"

"Pray he does not remain more than a day."

"He is terrifying but… magnificent."

"Do not speak such things! He might hear you!"

Violet Fear energy surged again, swirling around Han Yu as he walked deeper into the guest house.

He shut the door behind him, finally alone.

He exhaled slowly. 'So this is what the Blood Sect means to the people out here.'

Tonight would be an interesting night indeed.

The food arrived just as the sky had fully darkened, brought on wooden trays carried reverently by a group of younger villagers. They walked slowly, almost ritualistically, as though they feared that a single misstep would incur the wrath of a cultivator. When they set the dishes down on the low table in the guest house, Han Yu blinked.

For a village this small and isolated, the feast was almost extravagant.

The first tray contained a pot of Long Horn Doe stew, its aroma warm and savory, steam curling from the surface. The pieces of meat had been cooked for a long time until tender enough to break apart at the touch of a spoon. Root vegetables and herbs floated inside, giving the stew a rich color.

Another tray held grilled venison, the meat seared lightly and still juicy, placed neatly on broad leaves. Over it had been sprinkled crushed black pepper grass, giving it a spicy bite.

A whole roast chicken lay on a wooden platter, its skin glazed with honey that had caramelized beautifully. It gleamed under the lamplight, the sweet scent of honey mixing with the faint fragrance of citrus peel rubbed into the skin.

Fresh greens stir fried with garlic and a bit of boar fat filled a bamboo bowl. They were simple yet vibrant, clearly harvested only hours ago.

Last came a clay jar of sorghum wine, the thin smoke rising from the spout showing that it had been gently warmed.

Han Yu sat down. He stared at the dishes for a breath before lifting a spoon.

This was far beyond what they could afford on a daily basis. He could easily tell that this was a feast meant only for special occasions or sacrifices. The villagers had emptied their best stores for him.

He took a bite from the stew. The flavor was simple but hearty, and to his surprise he found himself enjoying every bit of it.

After months of eating sect rations and slave cooking that catered more toward energy and less toward taste, this felt strangely nostalgic. Of course this was before Xuan Qing started cooking.

Still it reminded him of the Great Continent. Of normal places. Of how mortals lived without blood sacrifice arrays, corpse puppets, and sect politics.

He finished the stew quickly and moved on to the meats. Everything tasted fresh and natural, without the metallic traces of Blood Qi that many ingredients in the sect carried.

Finally, he lifted the jar of wine and poured himself a cup. The scent was strong. He took a slow sip and felt the burn spread across his tongue and down his throat.

But nothing happened.

No buzz.No warmth in his head.No loosening of his nerves.

"Huh?" Even after finishing the entire jar, which was nearly half a liter, he remained entirely sober.

Han Yu stared at the empty jar thoughtfully.

Before arriving in the Blood Sect, he could definitely get at least tipsy from this level of wine. This was not spirit wine, which required some cultivation to make. This was simply strong mortal-grade sorghum wine. Even a Core Condensation realm cultivator would feel something.

Yet he felt nothing.

'Is it this body? Or the changes caused by the new cultivation technique? Or is it because of the Eight Emotions energy saturating me over these months?'

He could not be sure, but the discovery was unsettling. His tolerance had risen drastically without him even noticing.

After finishing his meal, he sat back. Soon after, soft footsteps approached.

The door slid open and several young village girls entered quietly to clean the dishes. They looked anywhere except directly at him. Their cheeks were slightly flushed, their breaths shallow.

Han Yu did not need to read their minds to know their intent. Even their glances were obvious, drifting toward him with apprehension and hope.

A child of a Blood Sect disciple would be valuable. Even a bastard child would grant the village favor and elevate its status. A child conceived with Ju Fan, who clearly had some talent, would be even better.