Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 574

Everyone saw it.

The Tiger Group’s outer disciple staggered backward, his face caved in by the iron wok that had just smashed into it.

Blood poured from his mouth. His two front teeth were gone—completely gone.

He swayed for half a second, eyes unfocused, then crumpled onto the stone platform in a heap—humiliated, broken, ugly in defeat.

A shockwave rippled through the crowd.

Eight Fatty didn’t hesitate. He stomped onto the platform, grabbed the fallen disciple by the collar, and dragged him across the stone like a sack of garbage. The man’s heels scraped uselessly against the ground.

With a grunt, Eight Fatty hurled him off the edge. The body rolled and landed hard at the feet of the Tiger Group.

“Take your useless disciple back,” Eight Fatty barked.

“You—!” The injured Tiger disciple tried to rise, fury blazing in his bloodshot eyes.

“What?” Eight Fatty shot back, folding his arms. His voice boomed across the square. “This platform is sacred. If you can’t accept you lost, send someone up here and prove me wrong. If you still can’t win, shut your mouth.”

He leaned forward, sneering.

“Or what? You think this sect trains people to fight with their mouths? With empty talk?”

The insult stung like a slap.

“Fight me!”

A figure arced cleanly through the air and landed on the platform with steady precision. His robes fluttered before settling against his tall frame.

“I don’t care what tricks you’re using,” he said coldly. “You will die by my sword.”

The crowd exploded.

“It’s Lie Zun!”

“Top Five of the Dragon Group!”

“He’s been an outer disciple for nearly forty years!”

“That kitchen servant is dead!”

Excitement surged like wildfire. Voices rose. Bets shifted. Eyes gleamed with greed.

And above the noise, Eight Fatty roared louder than anyone.

“Oh no! Oh no!” he shouted dramatically, clutching his head in fake despair. “The Dragon Group unleashed one of their Five Dragons! Our Number Nine is in serious trouble!”

He paused—just long enough.

Then flipped his tone.

“Hurry! Place your bets! Twenty times the return! Win this round and recover everything you lost!”

The other fatties joined in, yelling at full volume.

“Number Nine’s going down this time! Don’t miss it!”

“Look at all these treasures! They could be yours!”

Everyone knew they were being manipulated.

They knew.

But greed spoke louder than reason.

Twenty times.

The number echoed in their heads like a spell.

One by one, disciples stepped forward, hands trembling as they placed their valuables on the cloth—rings, pills, spirit stones, weapons, even family heirlooms.

Some hesitated.

Some swallowed hard.

But they still bet.

Alex stood quietly at the center of the platform, watching the pile grow. His eyes scanned the crowd.

More people were hesitating now.

The frenzy was cooling.

Doubt was creeping in.

If it stalled, the betting would die.

He couldn’t allow that.

Alex lowered his voice.

“Gaia,” he murmured calmly. “I have an idea.”

“I, Lie Zun, will kill you!” the Dragon Group disciple roared.

He lunged instantly. His sword flashed in a clean silver arc.

Alex barely reacted in time. The blade sliced through air—and fabric. Cloth tore. A strip of his sleeve drifted to the ground.

The crowd roared.

“This time he’s dead!”

Lie Zun pressed forward like a storm breaking loose. One strike. Two. Four. Five. Each cut precise. Ruthless. Designed to kill.

Sword light wrapped around Alex from every angle.

Gasps rippled through the square.

The blade shaved threads from Alex’s robe again and again—but never flesh.

No one blinked.

Lie Zun’s face flushed red. “How long are you going to run like a coward?”

Alex didn’t respond.

As he stepped back, he casually flicked his foot. A small stone chipped loose from the platform’s edge and skidded across the surface—landing exactly where Gaia had calculated.

Lie Zun inhaled sharply and surged forward again.

“Wudang Thirteen Steps!”

His movement technique exploded into motion. His body blurred. His right foot came down—

On the stone.

Half a second.

That was all.

His balance shifted.

His weight tilted.

Bang.

The iron wok slammed into his face like a falling hammer.

The crack rang across the square.

White light exploded in Lie Zun’s vision. Before he could recover, the wok came down again with brutal force.

He hit the ground hard.

Silence.

Then chaos.

“That’s cheating!”

“He slipped!”

“That doesn’t count!”

“He won by luck!”

The protests rolled like thunder.

The First Fatty jumped onto the platform and grabbed Lie Zun by the leg.

“A loss is a loss!” he roared. “Why are you barking like stray dogs?”

With a grunt, he flung Lie Zun off the platform toward the Dragon Group.

The insult hurt more than the fall.

The Tiger and Dragon Groups’ faces burned red. They were elite. Feared. Respected.

And now?

They were being dismantled by a kitchen servant with a wok.

“If Lie Zun almost killed that trash,” someone from the Dragon Group growled, “then send Number Three. Huang Po, step up.”

But before they could move, the Tiger Group acted first.

Another disciple leapt onto the platform.

“That’s Ma Xiu!”

“Top Three of the Tiger Group!”

Excitement flared again.

“Oh damn!” Big Fatty shouted theatrically. “Ma Xiu is stronger than Lie Zun! Seventh Level? No—Eighth Level of Qi Condensation!”

He slapped his thigh.

“The kitchen servant’s finished!”

“Bet now! Maybe you’ll finally win!”

A man in the crowd snapped, face red with rage.

“Bet what? I’ve already bet everything! What do you expect now?”

First Fatty smiled slowly—a devil’s marketplace smile.

“You still have clothes,” he said lightly. “Bet those. Maybe you’ll win it all back.”

The words hung.

The man froze.

Then something broke inside him.

He ripped off his outer robe and threw it onto the pile.

Gasps.

Then others followed.

Robes. Sashes. Jackets.

They flew forward one by one, landing in a heap of cloth and desperation.

“The fifth match begins!” First Fatty bellowed.

Ma Xiu didn’t waste breath. He rushed forward instantly. Faster. Cleaner. His killing intent heavier than Lie Zun’s.

This time, Alex didn’t evade as easily.

Steel flashed.

Cloth ripped.

Another sleeve shredded. A second strike tore across his robe. Threads fluttered like snow.

Every strike came inches from flesh.

The crowd went wild.

“Ma Xiu! End him!”

“Kill that trash!”

Ma Xiu’s Eighth Level cultivation surged like a rising tide, crushing down on the platform. His blade forced Alex back step by step.

Then—

CLANG.

The iron wok rang out.

Loud.

Metallic.

Final.

Ma Xiu stiffened.

Then collapsed.

He hit the stone hard, eyes rolled back, breath gone.

Alex stood there, clothes torn, chest rising steadily. The iron wok rested calmly in his hand.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then—

“Noooo!”

The square exploded.

“You Dragon Group idiots!”

“How can you lose to a servant?!”

“Are you all useless?!”

Insults flew everywhere. Rage burned hot.

And then—

Silence fell again.

A figure stepped forward.

Huang Jie.

Even before he reached the platform, whispers spread.

“Ninth Level…”

“One of the strongest outer disciples…”

First Fatty swallowed, then launched into showman mode.

“Huang Jie! Leader of the Tiger Group! Ninth Level of Qi Condensation!” he shouted. “If he’s fighting this round…”

He spread his hands dramatically.

“Our Number Nine will lose.”

He leaned in, eyes glittering.

“If you want everything back, this is your moment.”

“Bet! Bet! Bet!” someone screamed.

A half-naked man trembled with fury. “I’ve already bet my clothes! What more do you want?!”

First Fatty didn’t blink.

“You still have pants,” he said smoothly. “We take pants too.”

The crowd looked at each other.

Already half-naked.

Already humiliated.

Already drowning in sunk cost and pride.

No one believed the servant could win again.

Not against Huang Jie.

One by one, they removed their pants.

The pile grew into a mountain of fabric.

Cold air brushed against trembling legs, but greed burned hotter than shame.

On the platform—

Huang Jie lifted his eyes to Alex.

“You will die this time.”

His voice was calm, but rage simmered underneath.

Alex gave a respectful bow.

Proper duel etiquette.

Calm. Disciplined.

Huang Jie did not bow back.

The moment Alex lowered his head, Huang Jie moved.

He burst forward without warning, sword slashing downward in a vicious arc.

He thought Alex wouldn’t see it coming.

He was right.

Alex didn’t.

But Gaia did.

In less than a blink, Gaia seized control. Alex felt his body shift mid-bow, muscles firing before his mind caught up. He stepped forward. Center of gravity lowered. Knees bent. Torso twisted.

The iron wok shot upward.

Huang Jie’s chin came down at the exact same instant.

Clang.

The crack split the air like a hammer on an anvil.

The wok smashed into Huang Jie’s jaw. Blood sprayed.

But he didn’t fall.

His body was stronger. Hardened by years of cultivation.

Gaia didn’t hesitate.

Before Huang Jie could counter—

Alex pivoted sharply.

The iron wok swung again.

Wide.

Fast.

And—

It struck between Huang Jie’s legs.

A brutal, unmistakable impact.

Every male disciple in the square flinched instinctively.

Huang Jie’s face twisted. His knees buckled.

He collapsed.

“That’s illegal!” a Tiger disciple shouted.

First Fatty folded his arms. “Illegal? Since when are there rules in a life-and-death duel?”

No one answered.

All eyes were on Huang Jie—leader of the Tiger Group—sprawled unconscious on the stone.

Silence swallowed the square.

Especially among those now standing in nothing but underwear.

Faces pale.

Futures hanging on a servant with a wok.

Then—

The true leader of the Dragon Group stepped forward.

The crowd parted immediately.

His presence alone shifted the air.

He climbed onto the platform without haste. He glanced at Huang Jie’s body—

And kicked him off like trash.

The message was clear.

He lifted his eyes to Alex.

“Now,” he said coldly, voice carrying across the square, “I’ll show you the difference between the Tiger Group and the Dragon Group.”

A faint curve touched his lips.

“The Tiger Group breeds losers. The Dragon Group is strength.”

A murmur of fear spread.

At the side, First Fatty scanned the nearly naked disciples and sneered.

“If you’ve got nothing left to bet,” he said lazily, “then leave.”

No one moved.

One bare-chested man in thin undergarments stepped forward slowly.

The crowd stared.

He walked to the gambling pile and sat beside it.

His voice trembled.

His eyes were wild.

“I bet myself.”