The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 644

The night deepened over Qingshui. Lanterns swayed on their hooks, throwing restless shadows across the streets. Rebels roared as they plunged deeper, smashing open chests. Gold spilled between greedy fingers. Silk tore under eager hands.

Citizens crowded the doorways, clapping and cheering the looters on. “More!” they shouted. “Take more!”

Yet hundreds of drones had already slipped from the black sky—silent as breath.

Tasers lanced downward. Ordinary men dropped where they stood.

Bodies folded. Faces struck the flagstones with soft, final thuds.

The demonic sect disciples’ heads snapped up the instant the drones drew near. They felt the faint stir of wind across their scalps, the whisper of displaced air brushing their skin.

One disciple twisted sharply. His palm flashed open and a small knife flew.

It struck the nearest drone mid-descent. Metal screamed. Sparks sprayed in a bright arc. The machine spun wildly out of control and crashed into a stall, collapsing in a tangle of broken wings and fizzing circuits.

Alex felt the shift on the balcony. Mother Ai’s voice cut clean through his mind.

“Adjusting protocol. Retargeting normals only. Drones recalled.”

The drone climbed higher into the night sky and pivoted sharply, always keeping its distance from the demonic sect disciples. It struck only at the ordinary rebels below.

Screams tore through the lantern-lit street. Bodies jerked once and crumpled into the blood-soaked dirt, one after another.

The demonic cultivators stood untouched amid the slaughter, tall and arrogant, dark robes barely stirring in the wind.

“Careful!” a rough voice bellowed. “We’re under attack!”

High above, another shout cracked with panic. “Something’s flying up there—hitting us with hidden weapons! Everyone stay alert! This whole place feels cursed!”

The demonic cultivators’ smugness shattered in an instant. They surged together into a tight, bristling knot of black silk and steel.

Weapons rasped free—curved blades, heavy axes, spiked chains.

Heads snapped left and right as they scanned rooftops and shadowed alleys, every muscle coiled, every sense straining for the invisible killer.

A few snatched up axes and whatever lay at hand, hurling them skyward with guttural snarls. “Bring it down! Attack!”

But before the volley could find its mark, the air at the far end of the street shifted.

The new force arrived without a sound.

Four hundred Wudang disciples swept down on their flying swords, a silent white storm slicing out of the darkness.

Lu Piao stood at the front. His knuckles were already wrapped tight for the brawl, and a razor-sharp grin split his face like the edge of a fresh blade.

Weeks of waiting had left his blood on fire. No other sects had come. The itch in his fists had grown into a roar he could no longer hold back.

The two sides faced each other across the lantern glow. No taunts. No demands. No mercy asked or offered.

The clash came fast.

A demonic elder lunged with a snarl, his sword carving a searing arc of flame through the air.

A Wudang youth stepped forward and swung his sword in a clean, precise arc, meeting the elder’s flaming blade head-on. Steel clashed with a resonant ring that echoed through the street.

The flames sputtered violently before dying out. The elder staggered backward, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock.

Before he could recover, another Wudang fighter exploded forward and slammed a vicious kick into his ribs. Bone snapped like dry wood. The elder crumpled.

Lu Piao roared and charged the largest brute among them. Three powerful strides ate the distance. His fists became a storm—each strike hammering down like iron on an anvil.

The demonic warrior swung his spiked mace in a brutal overhead arc. Lu Piao ducked beneath it, then drove upward inside the brute’s guard.

A savage jab. Blood sprayed across his face. The mace slipped from numb fingers and clattered uselessly onto the stone.

All around them the fight surged and broke. Short. Brutal. Bodies spun. Knees buckled.

Qi erupted in dazzling bursts, slamming into the stone walls and showering sparks across the street. The Wudang disciples moved like wolves among chickens — swift, ruthless, and utterly dominant.

Within minutes the demonic sect lay subdued. Some knelt, wrists bound by glowing restraints.

Others slumped unconscious beside their broken weapons. Not one escaped.

The next morning, Zhuge Liang burst through the heavy doors of Alex’s private office, chest heaving, his usual iron composure cracked wide open.

“City Lord!” he snapped. “You need to hear this. Right now.”

Alex sat behind the wide oak desk, one elbow resting on the arm of his chair.

“Speak.”

Zhuge Liang stepped closer.

“Yan Province is bleeding out under Governor Liu Dai. The famine hit like a hammer. Fields turned to dust. Rebels burned the granaries to the ground, and now the people are starving. In pure desperation, Liu Dai sent envoys across the border into Qing Province, begging for grain and supplies.”

The interface bloomed instantly inside his mind—clean, silent, perfectly responsive.

“Launch the satellite array,” he said. “Full coverage of Qing Province and every surrounding province. Live feed. Now.”

High above the clouds, a larger satellite streaked upward through the atmosphere, unfolding its arrays and flooding his vision with fresh, crystal-clear data.

The view ripped open like a window torn wide across the sky.

Mountains, rivers, winding roads—all of it lay completely exposed beneath the invisible eye. Alex’s gaze swept the glowing tactical map and locked on.

Liu Dai’s army had already crossed the border.

Columns of fifty thousand armored soldiers snaked through the northern passes like dark rivers of steel. Black and crimson banners snapped viciously in the wind. They moved fast. Unopposed. Relentless.

The satellite shifted focus to the outskirts of Qingyang City, the provincial capital. Thick pillars of black smoke rose from its walls like funeral pyres.

Towers crumbled. Siege engines hurled fresh barrages of fire and stone.

Even from orbit the flames were unmistakable—hungry orange tongues devouring the grand castle perched on the central hill. Tiny figures ran like panicked ants across the courtyards as the governor’s fortress fell.

Qiao Mao’s seat of power was burning.

It was already too late. Qingshui City sat far from the capital. The devastating news had taken time to reach them.

Suddenly the thunder of another horse shattered the morning quiet outside.

A second rider stormed into the courtyard, leaped down, and bellowed toward the main hall.

“City Lord of Qingshui! Accept the command from Governor Liu Dai! Your governor, Qiao Mao, is already dead—his head hangs in the streets of the capital as a warning! Surrender everything immediately and swear loyalty to Governor Liu Dai, or suffer the same fate!”

Alex stepped out of the office and met the messenger in silence. His fist shot forward in a blur.

The punch connected with brutal force. The messenger’s head snapped back. He flew off his feet, tumbled across the polished stone floor, and slammed hard into the far wall.

The man groaned, blood trickling from his split lip. Rage twisted his face as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

“You dare strike a messenger?” he snarled. “We have fifteen thousand soldiers marching on Qingshui right now. We will burn this city to the ground!”

Alex stared down at him. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face—cold, calm, and utterly without mercy.

“I was thinking about devouring all fifteen thousand of them,” he said softly, almost pleasantly. “Thanks for coming all this way to deliver the good news.”