Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 741: Checking The Slave District After A While

The air grew heavier the closer he got, the blood Qi denser, tainted with fear, resentment, and despair. The buildings shifted in design, becoming more utilitarian, more oppressive. Formation arrays hummed faintly beneath the ground, suppressing cultivation and enforcing obedience.

Han Yu walked with measured steps, his expression once again settling into the cold, detached mask of Ju Fan.

By the time he reached the familiar building, his mind was calm.

Inside, the atmosphere was exactly as he remembered.

Dim lighting. Red lacquered pillars. The faint scent of incense mixed with iron and blood. Formation screens floated in the air, displaying rows of information that most people tried very hard not to read too closely.

Behind the main counter stood the same sleazy clerk.

The man's hair was tied back in a loose knot, his robes stained faintly at the cuffs. His eyes lit up with recognition the moment Han Yu entered.

"Well I'll be damned," the clerk said, raising a hand in lazy greeting. "If it isn't Ju Fan."

His gaze swept over Han Yu quickly, sharp and practiced.

"You disappeared," the man continued. "Fourteen months, give or take. Thought you might've died out there."

Han Yu stopped in front of the counter, his gaze icy.

"I was on a long term mission," he said flatly.

The clerk chuckled and nodded. "Figures. Only way someone like you stops coming here every week."

He leaned back slightly, hands clasping together.

"Hope it paid well," he added. "Haven't gotten a bonus commission from you in a while."

Han Yu did not respond.

Instead, he said, "Show me the catalog."

The clerk's grin widened. He waved his hand, and a translucent formation screen unfolded between them, its surface shimmering with rows of data.

"Same rules as always," the clerk said. "Merit points or spirit stones for a higher price. Prices fluctuate. No refunds. No complaints."

Han Yu's eyes moved across the screen.

Names. Cultivation bases. Special notes. Conditions.

Some entries were marked with simple descriptors. Criminal. Failed disciple. Captured enemy.

Others had longer annotations.

"Excessive impurities."

"Suitable for blood refinement."

"Unstable soul."

Han Yu ignored most of those.

He was looking for something else.

Familiar markers. Sect origin. Time from when they were captured.

His brows knit slightly as he scrolled deeper.

Several familiar sect names appeared, not from the Twin Leaf Peak Sect, but from affiliated factions. Some entries were dated only months back. Probably added much later to the roster or perhaps sent late by the disciples who captured them.

Some were too recent which Han Yu reckoned were locals of the Blood Moon Continent.

His fingers paused briefly over one listing, then another.

He felt a faint tightening in his chest, quickly suppressed.

So far, no one he knew personally.

That was good.

But it also meant something else.

'They might already be gone.'

Han Yu continued scrolling, his spirit sense carefully restrained. Drawing too much attention here was never wise.

The clerk watched him from behind the counter, eyes flicking with interest.

"Looking for something specific?" the man asked casually.

Han Yu did not look up. "Just checking availability."

The clerk hummed. "Market's been active lately. A lot of turnover. Sect's been busy."

Han Yu's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Busy with what?" he asked.

The clerk shrugged. "Same as always. Power struggles. Failed breakthroughs. Debts. People who thought they were special and learned they weren't."

Han Yu said nothing.

He reached the end of the current listings and paused.

Nothing jumped out at him immediately. No obvious asset. No familiar name. No immediate opportunity.

That did not mean the trip was wasted.

Far from it.

The fact that he did not see certain names was information in itself.

Han Yu returned his attention to the formation screen, scrolling through the slave catalog once more, this time more slowly and carefully.

Names flowed past his eyes, one after another, each line representing a broken path, a failed gamble, or simply someone unlucky enough to be on the losing end of the Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect's internal machinery. He filtered them mentally, looking for familiar surnames, familiar origins, anything that might hint at a connection to Twin Leaf Peak or to the people he had once known.

Minutes passed.

Nothing.

No Duan. No Kui. No names that stirred even a flicker of recognition tied to his old sect or allies he had cultivated over the years. That alone eased a knot in his chest he had not fully realized was there.

There were faces he recognized after the second check though.

A few disciples from other orthodox sects. Some from mid tier factions that had clashed with the Twin Leaf Peak Sect in the past during tournaments or small conflicts. Others were rising cultivators who had made a little name, and Han Yu only recognized them from rumors. Seeing them here brought a faint, complicated feeling to Han Yu's heart.

If circumstances were different, he might have helped them.

But circumstances were not different.

In the Blood Sect, priorities were the difference between survival and becoming another entry in this very catalog. Han Yu did not delude himself into thinking he could save everyone. He would not even try. His loyalty, such as it was, was reserved for his own people.

As he reached the end of the listings, something else struck him that he had missed the first time around.

The number.

It was low.

Far lower than usual.

Han Yu's eyes narrowed slightly, the cold and vicious expression of Ju Fan settling naturally onto his face. In the past, the catalog had been bloated. Pages upon pages of entries. Now, it felt almost… sparse.

Roughly half.

Perhaps even less.

He lifted his gaze from the formation screen and looked at the clerk behind the counter.

"Why are there fewer slaves than usual?" Han Yu asked, his tone flat but heavy with implied pressure.

The clerk froze for a split second before letting out a long, tired sigh. He leaned back against the counter, rubbing his temple with two fingers.