Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 578

The Almighty Dominance Chapter 578

First Fatty stepped forward without hesitation. The other seven followed instantly, forming a solid wall in front of Alex.

First Fatty rolled his shoulders and let out a thunderous laugh.

“I was wondering why I heard dogs barking,” he boomed, his voice rattling the rafters. He stood like a mountain—broad, immovable, towering over the rest. “Turns out it’s a pack of mutts from the Servants’ Discipline Department making noise in our Kitchen.”

Across from them stood twenty men clustered around Wang Junhao. They wore servant uniforms, but their sleeves were embroidered with the bold character for “Discipline,” gleaming like a badge of authority.

They weren’t ordinary servants. They carried themselves with the smug ease of men used to power.

One of them stepped forward. Built like a tiger and thick as a bear, he radiated pressure—the fifth level of Qi Condensation. His presence weighed down like a stone.

“Others might fear the Kitchen,” he said coldly, locking eyes with First Fatty, “but the Servants’ Discipline Department doesn’t give a damn about you.”

He lifted his chin slightly.

“We received a formal complaint from Wang Junhao regarding an unjust replacement within the Kitchen. We are acting under the department’s mandate.”

His gaze swept over them with open contempt.

“Interfering with this investigation will be treated as direct resistance against departmental enforcement.”

He stepped closer, voice sharpening.

“Now tell me—are you really stupid enough to stand in our way?”

Seven Fatty snorted and jabbed a finger at him.

“You’re only at the fifth level of Qi Condensation,” he shouted. “And you dare swagger in here? You really don’t know what our Brother Nine can do, do you?”

“Can do what?” the burly man shot back, stepping forward with deliberate confidence. “I’m the highest-ranked servant in this department. You think I’d fear anyone?”

His gaze slid past the fatties and settled on Alex.

There wasn’t even a hint of caution in his eyes.

Either Wang Junhao hadn’t told them what happened that day—or they simply didn’t believe it. If they’d seen it themselves, they would never have walked into this kitchen so boldly.

Alex stepped forward calmly.

“Big Brother,” he said to First Fatty, voice steady, “let me handle this.”

“Brother Nine!” First Fatty protested, turning his massive frame slightly. “We barely get visitors. And it’s even rarer someone dares mock the Kitchen. Let us warm up first. If we don’t move, all this fat’s just going to keep piling on!”

The other fatties roared in agreement.

“Yes, Brother!”

Without hesitation, each of them reached behind the stoves and pulled out a massive iron wok. They gripped them like shields—like blunt weapons forged for war. Eight enormous iron pans gleamed under the sun.

They stepped forward in unison.

The sight froze the air for a heartbeat.

Then the twenty members of the Servants’ Discipline Department burst into laughter.

The burly man wiped a tear from his eye. “What are those? Too poor to afford real weapons?”

With a sharp metallic whisper, he drew his sword. The blade caught the light—thin, precise, deadly.

He lifted it slightly.

“This,” he said, voice dripping with disdain, “is what a real weapon looks like.”

Truth be told, after the platform battle, the Kitchen had become the richest force in the servant district. They’d made a fortune betting on that fight. Silver had poured in like water.

But when it came to weapons, none of them cared for swords or spears.

They had seen Alex fight with an iron wok that day—the way he moved, the way the metal rang when it struck. It wasn’t just effective.

It was beautiful.

From that moment on, the Kitchen set a rule.

They would only use iron woks as weapons.

A symbol. A signature. A declaration.

“Brother,” Wang Junhao stepped forward, forcing calm into his voice though rage burned in his eyes. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here for justice. Let me fight Number Nine. Win or lose decides the position. Last time, you agreed the Number Nine spot would be mine.”

First Fatty stared at him, then barked a harsh laugh.

“You bastard named Wang,” he said bluntly. “I thank heaven I went blind before letting you in. Even if you win today, we still won’t give you a place here.”

Wang Junhao’s face twisted.

“How dare you!”

His pride shattered.

“If you refuse to give me the Number Nine position,” he shouted, voice cracking with fury, “remember this—my big brother leads the Servants’ Discipline Department! I’ll have him crush this Kitchen. Tear it down brick by brick!”

“You dare?!” Second Fatty roared, iron wok raised.

“What don’t I dare?!” Wang Junhao snapped, eyes bloodshot, control slipping.

He spun toward the twenty Discipline members behind him.

“All of you—attack! Beat those fatties down! Make them kneel! Make them beg me to join the Kitchen!”

His voice climbed higher, crazed with ambition.

“Once I’m in charge, I’ll reward you with rare herbs!”

“Attack!”

Wang Junhao charged first, iron sword flashing as he rushed forward with the Servants’ Discipline Department behind him like a wave of steel.

“Wang Junhao—face me!” Alex shouted.

He moved at the same instant, iron wok tight in his grip as he lunged forward.

“Gaia,” Alex said calmly in his mind. “Give me the path. Break them all.”

“Affirmative,” Gaia responded.

In an instant, blue, green, and yellow lines flashed across Alex’s vision—trajectories, weak points, angles of attack. Every movement laid bare.

Everyone in front of him became a target.

He was only at the fifth level of Qi Condensation—but that didn’t matter. He could already draw on a portion of his force.

Enough.

More than enough.

The burly man let out a cold laugh and charged at the fatties, sword raised high.

The clash was inevitable.

And the Kitchen was ready.

In the blink of an eye, it became a twenty-versus-nine melee.

Alex saw it clearly—the Servants’ Discipline Department was stronger. They trained daily. They ruled other servants through force. Fighting was their job.

The eight fatties, on the other hand, spent more time cooking and snacking than cultivating.

“Master,” Gaia’s calm voice sounded in his mind, analytical as ever. “Based on their levels, there is a high probability the fatties will be injured.”

“Then we won’t let them get hurt,” Alex replied coldly.

He surged forward and roared.

“Wang Junhao! You’ve gone too far! If you want a fight—then we go all out!”

The air around him detonated.

The moment Wang Junhao heard the shout, his expression twisted.

Without hesitation, he slashed his hand through the air and activated the Art of the Flying Sword.

His iron blade shot upward, then streaked forward like lightning, tearing through the air with a sharp, murderous whistle.

Alex unleashed the full power of the fifth level of Qi Condensation. He didn’t conceal a single ounce of his cultivation. Spiritual energy surged through him like a dam breaking, flooding into the iron wok in his hand.

The instant Wang Junhao’s flying sword hurtled toward him—

Alex swung.

The iron wok slammed into the blade with terrifying force.

A deafening crack split the air.

The sword didn’t just deflect.

It exploded.

Metal shattered into dozens of razor-sharp fragments, blasting outward like shrapnel from a bomb. The broken pieces whistled through the air and tore straight toward the Servants’ Discipline Department.

“Defend!” someone screamed.

They scrambled to raise spiritual shields, circulating qi to protect themselves.

Most reacted in time.

Some didn’t.

Several howled as iron fragments pierced their thighs. One clutched his arm as blood streamed between his fingers. Another staggered backward, a shard embedded deep in his chest.

Before the battle had truly begun, eight members of the Servants’ Discipline Department were already down.

Silence fell for half a second.

The eight fatties stared wide-eyed. The remaining discipline members froze in disbelief.

Wang Junhao hadn’t even reached Alex.

He stood there, pale, heart hammering.

This was not the same Alex from months ago.

“It’s time to teach them not to mock us!” First Fatty bellowed, snapping out of shock. His confidence surged back like wildfire.

He charged with his brothers.

This time, the momentum had shifted.

The Servants’ Discipline Department was shaken. Their formation broken. Their morale cracked.

The eight fatties roared and stormed forward, iron woks raised like war shields. They swung with everything they had.

Clang!

Bang!

The courtyard rang with metallic thunder—iron striking flesh, bone, and hastily raised weapons.

Alex surged into the fray, moving like a storm at the center of chaos. His wok flashed left and right, every strike backed by solid spiritual power.

The remaining discipline members, already rattled by the shattered sword, began to falter. Fear crept into their eyes. Their movements slowed.

And once fear enters the battlefield—

The outcome is already decided.