Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 606: A ’Cursed’ Book

"This book is poison to us. If a disciple of the sect was the one who executed the criminal responsible, then granting it to you is the only right path." The old man continued.

His voice softened. "It is better in your hands than anywhere near ours."

Han Yu tapped the table lightly with one finger. "You do not want to keep even a copy?"

The village head stiffened. "We would rather forget it exists."

Han Yu noted the sincerity in the old man’s tone. He also sensed the villagers behind him nodding quickly, fearful of even hearing more about the cursed item.

To them, this book was nothing but calamity.

He finally reached out and placed a hand on the wrapped shape. It was light, perhaps no more than a few dozen pages. The object inside did not emanate Qi. Whatever power it held was not obvious.

Han Yu spoke in a low voice. "Very well. I will accept it."

The village head looked as if he had been released from a crushing weight. Tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes.

"Thank you, honored disciple."

Han Yu untied the string and unfolded a corner of the cloth, but only enough to see the aged spine and handwritten characters. He did not open it fully yet. Not with others present.

He tied the cloth back in place.

"Leave it," he said. "I will look into it later."

The old man bowed deeply, nearly flat against the ground. "We are grateful that you have taken this burden from us. If there is anything else our small village can do for you, please command us."

Han Yu waved a hand in dismissal. "Go. I will eat."

The villagers backed away with hurried steps and bowed repeatedly as they left the courtyard.

The moment the gate closed behind them, Han Yu let his expression shift from Ju Fan’s cold indifference to thoughtful seriousness.

He looked down at the wrapped book.

"What exactly did you kill for?" he murmured. "And why was it so important that a Late Stage Qi refining realm cultivator risked returning after ten years?"

His fingers tightened slightly on the cloth.

He suddenly had a feeling that this journey through the Harrow Mountains was about to be far more complicated than he first thought.

Once the village head and the others fully retreated from the courtyard, Han Yu waited a few breaths. He listened for footsteps fading along the stone path, listened for the wooden gate closing behind the small escort the elder had brought, and only when absolute silence settled again did he draw the wrapped book closer.

The cloth was old, thin at the edges, and soft with age. Han Yu carefully untied the string and unfolded the cloth. The faint scent of dust, parchment, and the tiniest hint of old ink drifted upward.

The book itself was modest, almost shabby. The cover was cracked in several places and stained by years of handling. The title, however, still stood out.

Dancing Flame Art.

Han Yu blinked once, then twice.

"That was it?"

He had expected a grand title. Perhaps something poetic that hinted at power or mystery. From the way the elder described the disaster it brought, from the way an entire family had fled their old lives, and from the way the thief risked returning after ten years, Han Yu had imagined something more dramatic.

But this title sounded like something a peddler would shout in a noisy marketplace while trying to scam naive cultivators with a useless booklet.

Han Yu exhaled lightly. "Dancing Flame Art. Could be a third rate technique for lighting campfires better."

Still, his instincts told him there was more. He opened the book.

The first page was nearly blank except for a very flowery description of how the flames under this art would dance like elegant maidens beneath the moonlight.

Han Yu immediately ignored the poetic description. He had read too many manuals for alchemical flames and qi fire to be fooled by flowery words. Cheap techniques often disguised their uselessness with heavy embellishment.

High tier manuals tended to do the opposite. They described everything plainly, making the readers grind their teeth at how little explanation there was.

Still, he kept reading. By the third page, his attention sharpened. By the fifth, his expression grew serious. By the seventh, he leaned in even closer.

By the time he reached the last page, he understood why a man had once been willing to kill his own brother for this.

The Dancing Flame Art was not what the name suggested. Nor was it what the pretty description claimed. The foundation of the technique was incredibly refined. Rather than simply generating fire, the art focused on maintaining a continuous connection with it.

Most flame skills worked on the principle of release.

One generated fire Qi, shaped it, expelled it, and the moment it left one’s body the connection weakened. Control became difficult and the flames burned on their own unless supported by the technique’s internal pattern.

But the Dancing Flame Art was different.

It provided a method for the Qi to maintain its coherence even after leaving the body. It created a subtle tether, a lingering thread of consciousness and force that allowed fine manipulation from a distance. It even suggested controlling not only one’s own flame but also external fire.

It described, very casually, that a practitioner at high proficiency could alter the flow of a mundane fire in a distant house. They could make it swell, die, or dance without ever approaching it.

Han Yu found himself murmuring the lines. "The practitioner may influence a flame up to one kilometer away, provided the flame is visible or has a direct link with spirit sense."

His eyes widened slightly.

That level of control was rare. Very rare. And expensive. Skills of remote control were usually hidden in the vaults of major sects or the inheritance of powerful clans. They were never in the hands of a small village or a minor family.