Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 724: Returning To Harrow Edge Town

Harrow Edge Town had never looked particularly impressive.

Its walls were practical rather than grand, built from thick stone reinforced with timber and formation arrays that prioritized durability over aesthetics. The gates were wide enough for caravans and hunting parties, not for ceremonies. The towers were squat and utilitarian. The streets within were packed, noisy, and perpetually muddy or snowy depending on the season.

But to Han Yu, stumbling out of the Harrow Mountains after everything he had endured, it might as well have been an imperial capital blessed by the heavens themselves.

The moment the town came into view, his eyes nearly teared up.

"Civilization…" Han Yu whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Walls. Roads. People who are not trying to eat my soul."

He did not slow down.

In fact, he sped up.

By the time the guards at the gate registered movement, a blur had already passed between them accompanied by a sharp gust of wind that fluttered cloaks, rattled spears, and sent loose snow skittering across the ground.

"Did you feel that?" one guard asked, blinking.

"Wind," the other replied, squinting at the open road. "Strong one."

"Felt… angry."

"Cold season does that."

They shrugged and returned to their posts, entirely unaware that a starving cultivator had just violated the sanctity of their gate with the singular goal of committing culinary crimes.

Inside the town, Han Yu slowed down at last.

The noise hit him like a wave.

Voices. Shouting. Laughter. The clatter of bowls. The smell of oil, meat, spices, and broth all mixed together in a way that nearly brought him to his knees.

His stomach growled so loudly that a nearby child turned to stare.

Han Yu clutched his abdomen.

"Easy," he muttered to himself. "We are among people now. No need to act feral."

That resolve lasted exactly three seconds.

His eyes locked onto the nearest passerby, a broad shouldered hunter wearing thick leathers and carrying a half frozen carcass over his shoulder.

Han Yu lunged.

"YOU!"

The hunter barely had time to yelp before he was lifted an inch off the ground by his collar, boots scraping uselessly.

Conversation nearby died instantly.

Every head turned.

The man holding him was tall, wrapped in beast fur robes that radiated danger, with a face that looked like it had been carved by someone with a grudge against humanity. His eyes burned with urgency, hunger, and something just slightly unhinged.

The hunter's mind went blank.

"Yes?" he croaked, voice cracking.

Han Yu leaned in close, breath hot, eyes intense.

"WHERE DO I GET THE BEST FOOD RIGHT NOW?"

There was a long pause.

The hunter blinked.

"…Food?"

"Yes!" Han Yu roared. "RIGHT NOW!"

The hunter did not hesitate even a fraction of a second.

"Old Wang's Restaurant!" he shouted, words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "Best broth! Biggest portions! Spicy noodles! Duck blood soup! Fifty years open! I swear!"

"Where?" Han Yu demanded.

With a trembling hand, the hunter pointed down the street, nearly poking himself in the eye in his haste.

Han Yu released him immediately.

The hunter dropped to the ground with a thud, staring up in disbelief as Han Yu vanished in another blur, cloak snapping behind him like a banner of hunger.

People stared.

"…Did that just happen?"

"I thought he was going to kill him."

"He asked about food."

"Terrifying priorities."

Old Wang's Restaurant was easy to spot.

It was warm.

Steam poured from its open doors, carrying the scent of simmering broth and fried spices. Lanterns glowed invitingly, and every table inside was occupied by hunters, merchants, and cultivators nursing bowls and cups while chatting loudly.

Han Yu burst through the door.

The chatter faltered.

A few people looked up.

Then looked away.

Then looked back again.

Han Yu scanned the room like a predator assessing prey, then locked onto an empty table near the center.

He marched over and sat down heavily, the table creaking in protest.

A waiter carrying a tray froze mid step as Han Yu's hand shot out and grabbed him by the sleeve.

The boy yelped.

"W What do you want?" the waiter stammered, eyes wide.

"Food," Han Yu said.

The word carried the weight of an oath.

"What specifically?" the boy asked nervously. "We have many dishes."

Han Yu thought about it for exactly one breath.

"Everything."

The waiter blinked.

"…Everything?"

Han Yu met his gaze and nodded once.

"Everything."

The boy swallowed, eyes flicking over Han Yu's robes, the beast fur, the aura that screamed experienced hunter and dangerous cultivator.

"O-Okay!" he squeaked, turning and sprinting toward the kitchen.

The surrounding tables erupted in whispers.

"Did he say everything?"

"Is that even possible?"

"He looks like he crawled out of the mountains."

"I think he did."

Two minutes later, the waiter returned at a near run, balancing a tray stacked high.

"This is what we have ready right now," he said quickly, placing it down. "The rest will come soon."

Before him sat a massive bowl of pork broth noodles, steam rising thickly, an entire platter of dumplings stuffed with meat and vegetables, nearly thirty of them, and a bowl of glossy stir fried greens glistening with oil.

Han Yu did not respond.

He attacked.

Chopsticks blurred. Broth sloshed. Dumplings vanished at a pace that defied reason.

The waiter backed away slowly, eyes wide.

What the boy did not say was that this food had not even been Han Yu's order. It belonged to a table of four hunters who had just gone to wash their hands. Faced with the choice between explaining that fact to the terrifying cultivator or silently redirecting the food, the waiter had chosen survival.

By the time the hunters returned, their table was empty.

"…Where's our food?"

The waiter pretended not to hear.

When the next tray arrived, Han Yu was licking broth from the bottom of the bowl.

The waiter stared.

"…Heavens," the boy whispered. "That was meant for four people…"

Han Yu's head snapped up.

More food.

The waiter did not even finish setting the tray down before Han Yu grabbed it himself.

This time it was stir fried spicy noodles coated in red oil, shrimp dumplings, a bowl of duck blood soup, and more vegetables.

Han Yu inhaled.

Spice burned his tongue.

Oil coated his lips.

Warmth spread through his body like a blessing.

"Ahhh…" he sighed between mouthfuls, eyes half lidded in bliss.

People stared openly now.

"That man hasn't stopped chewing."

"Is he even breathing?"

"I think he swallowed a dumpling whole."

"Did he just drink duck blood soup like water?"

Han Yu did not care.

All that mattered was the sacred transfer from point A to B.

A was the table.

B was his stomach.

Just like heavens intended.

And he was committed to ensuring nothing went wrong in between.

Outside, snow fell softly.

Inside, Han Yu ate like a man reclaiming life itself.