Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 782: The Ancient Presence’s Interest

The presence chuckled softly.

"And here I thought that junior had perished long ago."

It studied the flame more closely, its expression shifting from amusement to confusion.

"This does not add up."

It withdrew its hand slightly.

"Array Spirit," it commanded. "Check all records related to this Dao Flame."

The mechanical voice responded instantly.

"All records found."

A torrent of information flowed into the presence’s awareness.

Its expression grew increasingly perplexed as it sifted through the data.

"So... the junior did not die quietly," it muttered. "He grew strong. Very strong."

Its eyes widened a fraction.

"Magma Ancestor... So that is what they called you in the end."

It continued reading.

"Oh? You overcame the continental barrier?" the presence said, clearly impressed. "Led an entire charge into the Southern Continent?"

A pause.

"And yet... you still fell."

Silence followed as the presence processed the information. The flame hovering between them flickered gently, unaware of the weight of the history being discussed.

The presence finally spoke again, more softly.

"Did you leave descendants?"

It glanced at the flame, then turned its attention back to Han Yu.

"Array Spirit," it said, "compile all records pertaining to disciple Ju Fan."

"All records pertaining to disciple Ju Fan found," the voice replied.

More information flowed in.

The presence learned of the Ju Clan, of its rise and fall, of blood cultivators who reveled in experimentation and excess. It saw Ju Fan’s life from beginning to end, his background, his aptitude, his actions within the sect.

None of it resolved the contradiction.

"How strange," the presence murmured. "This Ju Clan... they resemble the remnants of that eighth junior’s ideology. A fondness for blood, for risk, for pushing boundaries."

It tilted its head slightly.

"But there is no record of bloodline intermingling."

It searched deeper.

Nothing.

"No descendants," it said slowly. "Not because you lacked desire... but because you lacked compatibility."

The presence looked at the flame again, its expression contemplative.

"Your pursuit of power made your blood too dominant," it said, almost gently. "Humans simply could not bear your lineage."

The flame flickered, dimming slightly, as if in response.

The presence exhaled.

"And yet," it continued, eyes drifting back to Han Yu, "your Dao Flame lives on... carried by someone who should never have inherited it."

Its gaze sharpened.

"That means one thing."

It hovered closer to Han Yu, studying him anew, this time with far greater interest.

"Whatever you are," the ancient presence said quietly, "you are no mere coincidence."

The ancient presence hovered in the hall once more, its misty lower body swirling in slow, thoughtful currents.

For the first time since it had awakened, there was genuine confusion in its bearing.

It stared at Han Yu’s unconscious form, the Dao Flame still gently flickering near his head, and replayed everything it had just seen. Records did not align. Timelines contradicted each other. Causes and effects were mismatched, like pieces from different puzzles forced into the same frame.

"This does not make sense," the presence muttered.

Ju Fan’s actions, as recorded by the sect, followed a familiar pattern at first. Ruthless tendencies. Blood experimentation. Opportunistic behavior. Ambition tempered by fear. A disciple born from the Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect’s culture through and through.

And yet, at the same time, there were inconsistencies.

Decisions that were too measured.

Risks that were calculated rather than reckless.

Moments of restraint that should not have existed.

His personality matched on the surface, but the rhythm underneath was different.

More importantly, his body was wrong.

The ancient presence’s gaze sharpened as it focused again on Han Yu’s affinities. Fire, wood, darkness. All strong. All natural. Too natural.

"There are no scars of grafting," it said quietly. "No residue of forced alignment. No instability."

He didn’t know how the Second Kidney Peak Head had assumed an affinity transplant through blood arts. A reasonable conclusion for someone of this era. But the ancient presence knew better.

Affinity transplants always left traces. Microfractures in the meridians. Residual incompatibility in the soul. Even successful ones carried echoes of rejection.

Ju Fan had none.

"These affinities were never added," the presence concluded slowly. "They were always here."

That realization unsettled it more than the Dao Flame had.

"And yet... the water affinity recorded in your early life is gone."

Affinities did not simply disappear. They could be suppressed, damaged, overshadowed, but complete erasure was unheard of unless the soul itself had undergone a fundamental restructuring.

The ancient presence fell silent.

Then, it made a decision.

"If papers and slips do not record your truth," it muttered, "then your soul certainly must have it."

Its form began to contract.

SHUA

The towering humanoid shape shrank rapidly, mist compressing inward, runes folding and collapsing into themselves. In the span of a breath, the ancient presence was no larger than a grain of sand.

Then it vanished.

No explosion. No sound.

It simply dove.

It passed through Han Yu’s flesh without resistance, bypassed bone, blood, and meridians as though they were illusions, and descended directly into the deepest layer of his being.

The world inverted.

Darkness unfolded.

The ancient presence found itself suspended in a vast, silent expanse.

This was not physical darkness, but spiritual depth. An endless void that was not empty, but full. Full of potential, pressure, and presence.

Below it stretched a massive sea.

The Soul Sea.

It shimmered faintly, not with light, but with awareness. Each wave carried subtle intent, each ripple responding to forces unseen. The sea was far larger than what a Core Condensation cultivator should possess. Vast enough to rival those of early Nascent Soul cultivators, perhaps even beyond.

At the center of it all floated something extraordinary.

An eight-petaled lotus.

Its petals were closed, layered neatly atop one another, each one faintly glowing with a different hue. The lotus radiated calm, balance, and authority, as if it were the axis upon which the entire soul sea revolved.

The ancient presence stared.

"To think," it said slowly, "you were a Soul Cultivator too... and I could not tell at first glance."