The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 618

Alex felt the surge of power settle deep within him as he broke through to the first stage of Foundation Establishment.

The metal element coursed through his meridians like liquid steel, sharp and unyielding, born from the long hours of enlightenment.

The knowledge had flooded him, reshaping everything he thought he knew about combat and cultivation.

He opened his eyes and scanned the plaza.

Dozens of outer disciples stared at him in open-mouthed awe, their faces frozen between disbelief and reverence.

But Alex had no time for their stares. He did not care what they thought of him.

Without a word, he flicked his wrist and hurled the white sword skyward. It spun once, then hung motionless in the air, humming with quiet power.

In one fluid motion he leaped, landing lightly on its flat blade.

“Go,” he said.

The sword shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, carrying him high above the peaks in a streak of white light.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Shock turned to frenzy. A handful of elders exchanged quick glances, then flung their own swords into the air and gave chase.

Most of the outer disciples could only stand rooted to the ground, eyes wide, mouths moving in silent questions.

“What… what is happening?” one finally whispered.

No one answered. No one knew.

Three elders pushed their qi to the limit, faces tight with effort, yet they still fell farther and farther behind. They had never imagined a Foundation Establishment cultivator could make a flying sword move with such blistering speed.

The wind howled past them as they strained, refusing to give up, but Alex’s blade was already a distant white speck racing toward the next mountain’s peak.

By the time the elders caught sight of their destination, they had arrived at Heavenly Fist Peak.

Ten of them landed in a rush of robes and swirling dust, drawing startled cries from the disciples gathered in the plaza.

The young men and women dropped into hurried bows, hearts hammering.

“Where is the disciple who just arrived?” one elder demanded, voice sharp with urgency.

A disciple lifted his head, voice trembling. “He… he went straight to the Heavenly Fist test stone, Elder.”

The words landed like a thunderclap. The elders froze.

“The fist test?” another elder blurted. “Does that boy even know how to throw a punch?”

They stared at one another, utterly stunned.

They waited in tense silence, eyes fixed on the glowing ranking stone at the center of the plaza.

At first nothing changed. Then, slowly at first and then with startling speed, the name Jun Jiu began to climb the list.

Higher. Higher. Each new position came faster than the last.

The elders watched in growing disbelief. Their confusion deepened with every rank the name gained.

“How is this possible?” one muttered. “Does this man truly understand fist techniques?”

Inside the test chamber, the world felt strangely familiar to Alex. The stone arena mirrored the sword trial exactly, except there were no blades this time—only fists and kicks, raw and unadorned.

Opponents materialized from light, striking with precise, brutal forms. Alex moved without hesitation.

Gaia had already recorded every motion, every shift of weight, every angle of attack, feeding the data straight into his mind.

He had realigned his understanding of fist work during the sword enlightenment, and now the knowledge flowed through him like second nature.

It was easier than the sword trial. Much easier.

He struck, dodged, countered—each movement clean, economical, and devastating.

The test stone drank in his performance, and outside, the name Jun Jiu kept rising, unstoppable.

Alex condensed his newly formed Foundation Establishment core in a single, deliberate breath and sealed it deep within his dantian. The power folded in on itself, vanishing completely.

In an instant, his aura dropped back to Greater Qi Condensation, smooth and unremarkable.

He wanted it this way. Only when he had mastered all five elements would he allow his true foundation to shine.

Anything less felt incomplete, unfinished—like leaving a blade half-forged.

For the next few days, he lived inside the fist trial without pause. Strike after strike, the stone arena tested him relentlessly.

On the morning of the fourth day, his name on the ranking stele climbed to second place. Moments later, it surged into the final stage of first rank.

He stepped through the shimmering barrier and found himself in a vast inner chamber. All around him, phantom figures of ancient masters moved in perfect loops.

Shaolin disciples flowed through iron-hard forms, their fists cracking the air like thunder.

Nearby, beggars from the Beggar Sect demonstrated the legendary Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms—each palm strike rippling with dragon-like force—and the wild, unpredictable Drunken Fist that turned drunken stumbling into lethal grace.

Alex watched, heart pounding with quiet awe.

When Alex finally stepped out of the Heavenly Fist test chamber, the entire plaza had fallen into a stunned silence.

Elders and disciples alike stood frozen, mouths hanging open, eyes wide with shock, as if they were staring at a living legend that had just walked out of myth.

“Looks like they don’t have anything better to do,” Alex muttered with a small nod.

He assumed their frozen stares came from nothing more than too much free time on their hands.

Without wasting another second, he flicked his white sword into the air.

The blade spun once, then hovered steady above him. He leaped lightly onto its flat surface and shot forward in a streak of white light, racing toward the next distant peak.

Every elder’s face turned deathly pale.

“Is he heading to the other peaks?” one whispered.

“You don’t think…” another began, horror creeping into his voice. “Is he really planning to take first place on every single one?”

The more they considered it, the deeper their shock became. A ripple of disbelief spread through the crowd like wildfire.

And that was exactly what Jun Jiu did.

Over the next two months, Alex moved like a storm across Wudang Mountain.

He stormed Mystic Staff Peak and absorbed every secret of staff and spear combat. He conquered Divine Saber Peak, mastering the ruthless grace of every saber technique.

At Eight Trigram Array Peak, he unraveled the hidden knowledge of formations, arrays, talismans, seals, barriers, and battlefield strategy.

He swept through all thirteen peaks without rest, claiming blacksmithing, body refinement, hidden weapons, movement arts, and every legendary Murim art the mountain guarded. He devoured them all.

The greatest shock came when he entered the final peak—one almost no one ever visited. It was Wudang’s Art Peak, a quiet sanctuary dedicated to the refined arts: literature, poetry, calligraphy, the game of Go, singing, painting, dance, and every elegant cultural pursuit the ancient sect preserved.

Even here, Alex pushed forward with the same relentless focus. When he finished, he stood at first rank in every discipline.

When Jun Jiu finally stopped, he had achieved something no one in the long history of Wudang had ever done.

He was now known across the entire mountain as Wudang Number One.

At that moment, the sect leaders gathered with solemn expressions. After long, quiet discussion, they reached their decision.

“It is time,” the Sect Master declared. “I must take this extraordinary young man as a direct disciple.”

Meanwhile, Alex stood alone on a quiet cliff edge, gazing out over the vast, mist-covered mountains. A cold, determined smile touched his lips.

“This is the perfect time,” he thought. “Time for me to leave Wudang.”