The moment Theodore saw the notification, his eyes lit up.
The Myriad-Demon Golden Pill Formula—
the only true Golden Pill-grade formula from the primordial world he had yet seen—
was finally in his hands.
Madam Pince, meanwhile, was so excited her face had flushed red, and even her voice trembled.
"I don't think there's been a librarian in the past thousand years who has cleaned as many forbidden books as I now have."
"Theodore, it's all thanks to you."
Theodore smiled.
"Madam Pince, the honor is mine."
She practically glowed with excitement.
"With the catalogue of forbidden books you've helped me clean, together with the records left behind by previous librarians, I'm now confident that within a few years I'll be able to identify which books in the library once stood beside the Necronomicon."
"Theodore, when that happens it will be a discovery that shocks the entire magical world!"
Theodore's expression stalled for the briefest instant.
The Necronomicon was almost certainly not something that merely "shocked" people.
If Madam Pince really found it, then whether it brought amazement or sheer terror would be another matter entirely.
He wanted to stop her.
But looking at the fervor in Madam Pince's eyes, he immediately understood how deep her obsession with finding the Necronomicon truly ran.
Even if he tried to persuade her, he probably would not succeed.
More importantly, Theodore's gaze drifted to the next reward tied to his relationship with her.
To reach the level of My Dao Is Not Lonely, he would need to slay a peerless great demon.
And the more Theodore thought about it, the more it seemed that only something as twisted and ominous as the Necronomicon could possibly be judged by the System as that sort of existence.
If the Necronomicon truly emerged, then for Theodore it might not be a danger alone—
it might also be an opportunity.
After all, it was tied directly to the Demon-Slaying Sword Art, that sword art perfectly matched to his Sword of Slaughter.
So after a moment, Theodore said nothing and simply left the library.
Then his eyes flashed.
"Myriad-Demon Golden Pill Formula—receive."
A vast tide of information immediately surged into Theodore's mind.
But at his current level of cultivation, he was no longer what he had once been. He bore the transmission easily and began examining the full formula.
The moment he truly looked at it, he sucked in a breath.
"The killing nature of the Demon-Refining Pill is already extremely heavy…"
"But this Myriad-Demon Golden Pill, though called a Golden Pill, carries killing nature far beyond that by countless times."
"It takes a complete great demon as its primary ingredient, with countless lesser demons as supplementary ingredients. By doing so, it pushes the baleful demon nature within that great demon even further, until it condenses into a demonic pill."
"Then one reverses the demonic source and inverts creation itself, finally producing a Myriad-Demon Golden Pill that can rival the orthodox Golden Pills of the true alchemical path."
"One furnace of these pills would consume thousands upon thousands of demon lives as a matter of course."
Yet after the initial shock, Theodore let out a sigh.
A great demon—or at the very least something carrying the bloodline of a great demon—where exactly was he supposed to find such a thing?
Alchemy, alchemy…
The ingredients were the real problem.
Just then he remembered the talent he had only recently obtained:
The Secrets of Heaven Can Be Measured.
As a talent for divining heavenly secrets, it was supreme when it came to seeking opportunities and good fortune.
Perhaps it could tell him where the primary ingredient for the Myriad-Demon Golden Pill might be found.
And with the Purple-Gold Crown of Auspicious Clouds suppressing his destiny, there was no need to fear its loss.
So Theodore activated the talent once more.
A moment later, confusion rose in his eyes.
The Secrets of Heaven Can Be Measured showed that the primary ingredient for the Myriad-Demon Golden Pill would not need to be sought out at all.
It would come to him on its own, and before too long.
"The ingredients for a pill… can come and knock on my door?"
"There's a thing like that?"
…
At the same time, within the Flint estate—
Marcus Flint returned home before the Christmas holiday, his eyes ringed black, his legs trembling beneath him, his once-powerful body visibly thinner and weaker than before.
When old Mr. and Mrs. Flint saw him like that, they were both struck with shock.
Previously he had suffered dozens of broken bones and spent so long in St Mungo's. After that, he had finally returned to Hogwarts.
At that time he had seemed fine.
How, after such a short while, had he become like this?
Marcus Flint gritted his teeth and offered an explanation.
"I lost everything."
"My honor. My status. Everything."
"I haven't been able to sleep properly for nights on end. My heart is full of anger and resentment, and that's why I've wasted away like this."
"This time I came home because I will find a way."
"I'm going to take back everything that was stolen from me."
The elder Flints exchanged a glance.
Then both of them began weeping with relief.
A moment later, old Flint directly handed his son the keys to the family vault and clapped him heavily on the shoulder.
"My son."
"You're finally a worthy heir to the family."
"I can at last entrust the Flint family's collection of magical books and alchemical objects to you without worry."
"This Christmas, stay home and train properly."
"And when the holiday ends, go back and crush the wretches who stole your place!"
But the moment he stepped into the storeroom, out of sight of his parents, Marcus Flint let out a breath of relief and carefully drew a pink letter from inside his robes.
There had been no new message on the paper for two days.
The latest line said only that, because she had no money to buy a Christmas present, she would have to go out and work during the break.
That line had made Flint's heart ache.
"What a wonderful little witch…"
"She must want to buy me a Christmas present. That's why she's gone out to earn money."
"I have to prepare something truly unique for her."
At once, Marcus Flint began rummaging through the Flint family vault.
As one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Flint family's foundation needed no explanation.
Though they were no longer as grand as the Malfoys, they had by no means fallen into ruin. The family still maintained the dignity proper to a first-rate pure-blood house.
Its collection of books and alchemical artifacts was vast beyond measure.
Yet as Marcus searched through the storeroom again and again, he found nothing that seemed worthy of his "epistolary lover."
"How could any of this possibly match someone so sacred and beautiful?"
"I have to find the most unique, the most dazzling treasure in existence. Surely the Flint family collection must hold something fit for her!"
He searched deeper and deeper, until he reached the oldest corner of the vault.
This was the place where the family's most ancient relics had been stored.
Some were so old they even predated the era of the Four Founders.
And yet after so much time, even the finest alchemical items had long since lost any real function, leaving behind only their commemorative value.
It was likely that several generations of Flint patriarchs had never even looked at this part of the vault once.
Marcus coughed repeatedly as dust rose around him in thick clouds. He cursed with every breath—
and then, through that drifting dust, his eyes suddenly fell upon an exquisitely carved statue, so beautiful it seemed impossible for human hands to have crafted it.
The statue depicted a creature with the head of a fish and the body of a man.
At first glance, it vaguely resembled the merfolk of the Black Lake.
But the instant Flint saw it, he knew with absolute certainty that it could not possibly represent so lowly a race as merfolk.
There was an icy, cruel beauty in it.
His gaze became instantly fixed, almost bewitched by it, and praise spilled from his mouth unbidden.
"What a beautiful being…"
"These smooth scales…"
"These vivid, shining eyes…"
"And this bronze-green color…"
"My beloved girl will appreciate its beauty just as I do."
"She will. She must…"
Marcus sank into a dreamlike state, rubbing his face against the statue again and again.
At the same time, the statue began releasing thicker and thicker strands of maddening aura.
That aura poured into Marcus Flint's body, causing the strength of his magical power to rise in a wildly unnatural way.
Gradually, the sound of waves seemed to begin moving through the Flint family vault.
The smell of fish spread thickly through the air.
"Glu-glu… glu-glu…"
Marcus clutched the statue tightly, as though receiving some command—or perhaps beholding some unimaginable existence.
His face was full of manic zeal.
"Find… that boy… Theodore Ashbourne…"
"Offer him… to the great Father…"
"Dagon!"
A short while later, Marcus came back out of the dreamlike trance.
Yet the majestic figure he had seen there remained clear in his mind.
Then he felt the flood of power coursing through every inch of his body.
"So this is the blessing of the ancestors… and of the Father they worshipped?"
Compared with that great being from the dream, what was Dumbledore?
What was Voldemort?
And what, then, was Theodore Ashbourne?
A savage, confident grin spread across Flint's face.
The memory of being beaten senseless by Theodore seemed to rise before him—
but now…
Flint clenched one hand casually, and the air itself cracked.
At the tip of his wand, black light began to gather.
"Theodore Ashbourne…"
"This time, you're going to learn what fear really feels like."
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