At that moment, the System Interface began scrolling rapidly.
You have found one of Duobao Daoren's natal treasures. Unexpectedly, a strand of Duobao Daoren's spirit was once anchored within it.
To destroy Duobao Daoren's natal treasure, you must first clash with this anchored spirit.
Duobao Daoren is an unrivaled cultivation genius of the Mythic Era. Even a single strand of his spirit can suppress countless prodigies.
Even with an invincible Dao-heart and the Judge's authority, this will be an unprecedentedly dangerous battle.
Host, be extremely careful.
Tom Riddle's soul fragment was completely bewildered.
He had been in the diadem.
How had he come here?
Why could he no longer sense the diadem at all—like the connection had been severed?
Impossible.
When had the magical world ever possessed a method to separate a soul fragment from a Horcrux?!
The darkness around him was bleak and murderous.
The underworld aura made him shiver.
And the grand figure seated above—like a king of death—radiated a dim black light that terrified him with a single glance.
Tom Riddle was still Tom Riddle—eloquent, persuasive, adept at reading hearts.
He formed a guess immediately.
Perhaps his Horcrux had violated some taboo between the living world and the world of the dead.
Was the being before him… the legendary Death?
And Death was said to be perfectly just.
He had merely made a few Horcruxes—matters of the living world.
Surely Death wouldn't target him for that?
Tom Riddle cried out quickly:
"Since I was created, I've been stored in the Room of Requirement. I haven't done anything!"
"Death—if you're going to judge someone, you shouldn't be judging me!"
System text flashed again.
Using the Judge's authority, you confine Duobao Daoren's strand of spirit within the Nether.
Duobao Daoren lets out a cold laugh—
'Before I was born, Heaven was not. The Nether came after Heaven—how could it confine me?'
Theodore's eyes widened slightly.
He barked at Tom Riddle:
"Impudent!"
"You dare laugh in court?"
"Daring to scorn the Nether's majesty?"
"Then you'll receive one hundred intimidation strokes first!"
Before Tom could even react, overwhelming force pinned him to the ground.
A strand of black light condensed into a staff and began striking down relentlessly.
For ages, this soul fragment had known neither hunger nor pain.
But now, under pure soul-targeting Judge authority, Tom Riddle tasted suffering again—fully.
One hundred strokes.
His screams tore through the hall.
Fury and grievance boiled inside him.
"I didn't laugh!"
"And I didn't scorn your so-called Nether!"
"Isn't Death supposed to be fair? Why are you framing me?!"
New system text appeared.
You use the Judge's authority to seize Duobao Daoren's spirit. Duobao Daoren roars—your art trembles, nearly breaking.
The force of his roar shakes your soul.
What a Duobao Daoren!
Theodore snapped again.
"So you dare roar in court too?"
"And that roar carried power that made my soul reel?"
"Then you'll take three hundred more strokes!"
Tom had barely managed to rise before he was slammed down again, eyes splitting with rage as the black staff fell.
Three hundred strokes—
Soul-piercing agony ripped through him.
He clenched his hands, swallowed humiliation, forced himself calm, and tried to explain.
"Death… I didn't roar. I was only saying I'm innocent. You must have misunderstood—"
The system updated again.
You battle Duobao Daoren's spirit with the Judge's authority. Duobao Daoren is astonished that a junior can contend with him so far.
'When did such a figure appear in the world?'
'If you have offended me, you cannot be left alive.'
Seeing force cannot break you quickly, Duobao Daoren softens his tone to persuade you—
In truth, he uses a soul-secret art to shake your Dao-heart, shatter it, plant a heart demon, and ruin your path.
Theodore slammed an imaginary gavel.
"If I say you did, then you did."
"Do you think I could be wrong?"
"I never wrong a good man, and I never spare a wicked one."
"I gave you chance after chance."
"And now you dare scheme against me—trying to shake my Dao-heart and destroy my path."
"Vicious."
"But you miscalculated."
"My Dao-heart is invincible."
Tom Riddle finally snapped.
His face twisted into savage fury.
"Outrageous!"
"You're bullying me too far!"
"I'll fight you!"
"Death or not—Death is my defeated foe! I already beat Death! You can't kill me!"
He pointed toward Theodore.
Green light gathered—
But in the next instant, Theodore pressed down with a palm.
Origin Sea power condensed into dim black light—purely soul-targeting.
In the Mythic Era, such power could destroy ferocious ghosts and ghost kings with ease.
How could a mere Horcrux fragment resist it?
Tom was pinned instantly.
The system text flashed.
Duobao Daoren sees his scheme exposed and coldly laughs—'Fine. Then today I'll battle you properly.'
As he unleashes his might, the Nether trembles—ghosts wail, spirits scream.
Theodore sneered.
"Still showing off your might?"
"Shaking the Nether, making ghosts wail?"
"Crime increased."
"Eight hundred more strokes!"
Tom's terror-stricken howl echoed as another round of beating fell.
After that, he was so weakened he could barely think.
And he had learned.
He lay there, unmoving, silent.
This Death was insane—his eyes were bad too.
Whatever.
At that moment, the system suddenly displayed blood-red warning text.
Duobao Daoren falls into silence. The surroundings grow solemn—he is certainly brewing a supreme art. Killing intent approaches.
Host, beware!
Theodore immediately shouted:
"Tom! You still dare brew Dao arts?"
"You still dare hide killing intent—"
Tom snapped his head up, grief and rage exploding.
"Just kill me!"
"I'll fight you!!!"
This time Theodore didn't even need the system prompt.
"Mutual-destruction technique?"
"Fine."
"Such stubborn wickedness—then let you scatter completely and enter the Judge's Brush."
At his fingertip, the dim black light grew dense—nearly solid.
He pointed.
Black light pierced straight through Tom Riddle.
In the original story, each Horcrux had taken Harry and the others immense effort.
Here—
One was erased silently.
System text surged:
A soul-battle that shook heaven and made ghosts weep!
With invincible Dao-heart and the Judge's authority, you fought with pure offense, staining the Nether with blood, and narrowly won against Duobao Daoren's spirit!
With one finger, Duobao Daoren's anchored spirit perishes, unable to return to Penglai.
Theodore watched Tom's hollow gaze as the fragment began to disperse, then formed the absorption seals from the Judge's Brush method.
"Condemned souls of heaven and earth—through countless kalpas—prove my divine ability."
"Tom—enter the Brush."
Tom's soul was pulled by an invisible force, turning into black mist that surged into the space before Theodore.
A phantom brush, shimmering with black light, flickered into existence.
Tom's soul flashed faintly within it.
Theodore's eyes brightened.
"Not bad."
"A Dark Lord's soul really is twisted."
"It's nowhere near the murder-stars born of primordial killing intent, or the ten-lifetimes of evil in mythic records…"
"But it's far beyond ordinary criminals."
"If I had thousands of Toms, the Judge's Brush would be completed on the spot."
Thousands sounded impossible—
But compared to the materials needed for other artifacts, this was actually the most achievable powerful artifact Theodore had ever seen.
Even if it never reached full completion, destroying all of Voldemort's Horcruxes—and adding a few Death Eaters—might be enough to manifest the Judge's Brush in an initial form.
That alone would be a terrifying trump card for soul combat.
Theodore's mood lifted.
Then—
A flood of virtue descended upon him—far greater than the total virtue he had gained earlier by weakening Voldemort's main soul.
It instantly replenished what he'd spent fusing talents—and overflowed beyond that.
It made sense.
Damaging Voldemort's current body and strength only made him suffer—it didn't erase his foundation.
As long as the Horcruxes existed, he could still return.
But destroying a Horcrux was ripping out Voldemort's lifeline.
The virtue earned was naturally far greater.
And that still wasn't the end.
Previously, Theodore's relationship with Duobao Daoren had been blood-red: irreconcilable.
Now, a faint glow flickered.
You have destroyed one of Duobao Daoren's natal treasures.
Reward obtained — Talent: Fortune's Favor.
Theodore took a deep breath.
He had coveted this talent for a long time.
It was the same tier as Virtuous Immortal—similar effects, and they could stack.
He had already experienced what Virtuous Immortal could do.
With Fortune's Favor added on top—
He could only say: even a "chosen one" couldn't compare.
And still—
It wasn't over.
Theodore dismissed the Judge's court technique. The underworld scene vanished, revealing the Room of Requirement again.
With Voldemort's soul fragment removed, the diadem—tainted by Dark Magic—returned to its original state.
It was still plain, not dazzling with jewels as legends claimed.
But it was no longer dull and grey.
A golden sheen flowed faintly across its surface.
Theodore's gaze settled on it.
It enhanced wisdom.
Perhaps it could stack with his talents and further increase his comprehension.
But then—
His eyes froze.
His pupils exploded with joy.
Because the Microscopic Heavenly Eye detected something else.
Fortune.
Immense fortune condensed within the diadem.
The badge Theodore had obtained from the Longbottom family had also been a fortune-bearing object—
But compared to this diadem, it was a firefly beside the moon.
Using the diadem merely to "protect a talent during fusion" would be criminal waste.
Its true purpose was—
To refine a Treasure of Fortune.
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