The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 655

Ling Xue stared at Alex. Her blade was still dripping. Smoke stung her eyes. She wanted to hate him—for the mist, for the way he had stolen five thousand of her men without a single fair fight.

But the rage wouldn’t come. Only exhaustion, bone-deep and heavy.

A sergeant near the front lowered his spear. Another man followed. Then ten. Then a hundred. Soon, swords clattered to the dirt by the hundreds, their metallic ring echoing across the field alongside the steady crackle of the fire.

Ling Xue watched the shift happen in real time. Shoulders slumped. Hands loosened on hilts. Men looked at one another—not with suspicion now, but with something closer to relief.

One of the Mount Tai captains stepped forward and drove his sword point-first into the earth.

Feng Zhou exhaled slowly, the sound rough in his throat. He met Alex’s eyes across the distance and gave a single, exhausted nod.

The rest of the army broke.

Swords clattered to the ground by the thousands. Men dropped to their knees, not in surrender to an enemy, but in simple, crushing exhaustion.

Some wept openly.

Others stared at the burning mansion with hollow eyes.

The fire in the governor’s mansion roared like a living beast. Flames clawed at the night sky, sending black smoke rolling across the plain. Liu Dai’s severed head stared out from the spear at the gate, mouth twisted in a final snarl.

It was over. They had lost.

“I am Bai Xiaochun, City Lord of Qingshui,” Alex declared. “As of this moment, I am Governor of Qinq Province. Yan Province already belongs to me. Two provinces. One rule.”

“I am your new governor. Return to your villages and resume your stations. The new order will be enacted within the next few days.”

Some soldiers began turning away and drifting off. Even in the deep of night, they no longer wished to remain in this place. One by one, they started walking out.

The Wudang disciples then led the remaining soldiers away, while Alex flew over to Ling Xue and Grand Elder Feng Zhou of Mount Tai—both figures of immense influence.

Ling Xue stood ten paces away, her face streaked with blood and soot. Beside her loomed Grand Elder Feng Zhou of Mount Tai, his sword still dripping. The two of them stared at Alex with the dull, exhausted eyes of people who had just crawled out of hell.

Alex met their gaze without flinching.

He bowed respectfully and spoke with open hospitality. “I am the young sect master of Wudang. I hold deep respect for the Puyang Blade Clan and Mount Tai. However, from this moment on, I ask that you follow Wudang’s lead in all murim affairs. In return, nothing of yours will change—your lands, your halls, your traditions remain untouched. You keep your homes. You keep your honor. You need only treat Wudang as your big brother.”

Feng Zhou’s jaw tightened. His massive frame seemed to swell with the urge to argue. Ling Xue’s hand drifted toward her sword hilt, fingers flexing once before she forced them still.

Alex didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“If you cannot accept this arrangement,” he continued, “then every month, you may send your strongest warrior to challenge Wudang. If you win, you may reclaim your freedom, and Wudang will listen to you. But if you lose, you will still have to follow Wudang’s lead.”

A long beat passed.

“We accept,” Ling Xue said, her voice rough and weary. “The Blade Clan will honor the Wudang Sect as big brother. For now.”

Feng Zhou’s deep voice rolled out like distant thunder. “Mount Tai stands with you. For now.”

Alex gave a single nod. No triumph appeared on his face, only cold certainty.

Ling Xue’s eyes burned with one final question. “My soldiers… The five thousand you captured in the mist, and the Mount Tai disciples taken alongside Han Feng—what have you done with them?”

“They’re alive,” Alex looked straight at her. “Every last one. Unharmed. No torture. No prisons. They’re being held safely in the Wudang training realm. In ten days they will be returned to you. No one has been harmed. No one will be.”

Ling Xue searched his face. She found nothing but truth. The knot in her chest loosened for the first time since the mist had swallowed her army.

She gave a single sharp nod.

Liu Piao approached through the smoke and firelight. He stopped beside Alex and spoke in a low voice.

“Young Sect Master,” he said, “many of the soldiers have nowhere left to return. No families. No villages. They’re soldiers with nothing. What should we do with them?”

Alex stood motionless for a moment, staring across the thousands of defeated men. Then he stepped forward. His voice, though quiet, carried across the entire plain with unnatural clarity.

“Listen up,” he called. “If you have no home to go back to—if there’s nothing waiting for you but empty fields and ghosts—raise your hand right now. You will be given a new place among my soldiers. But first, you will train in the Wudang realm. You will be given new purpose. New skills. New loyalty. We will fix you.”

For a few heartbeats, nothing happened.

Then a single hand rose in the front ranks. Another followed. Then ten. Then a hundred.

Hundreds became thousands.

They were orphans with dead eyes, sons of widows who had nothing left, men whose villages had been burned to ash years ago, men who had known only war for so long they no longer remembered peace. Their hands stayed raised, faces hollow but strangely hopeful.

Alex gave a small nod.

From the dark sky above, sleek drones descended in perfect silence. Their running lights cut through the smoke like predatory stars. Mechanical arms extended, harnesses locked gently around shoulders and waists. One by one, then in steady groups, the chosen men were lifted off the ground.

They rose into the night without resistance, bodies dangling beneath the machines as they vanished upward into the darkness, heading toward the hidden Wudang training realm.

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