Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 580

The Almighty Dominance Chapter 580

This was no longer just a fight.

“We’re defending ourselves!” one of the fatties shouted back, his voice shaking but defiant. “You attacked us first!”

“Doesn’t matter,” the burly man sneered. “We are the Servants’ Discipline Department. No one will care about your excuses. The elders will stand with us.”

His words settled over them like a shadow.

Authority. Power. Influence.

They weren’t just facing swords anymore.

They were facing the full weight of the hierarchy.

Alex’s iron wok came down one final time.

The last man standing from the second wave crumpled to the ground. Silence followed—broken only by groans and the scrape of bodies shifting in pain.

Alex turned to First Fatty, breathing steady, eyes sharp.

“How many people are in the Servants’ Discipline Department?”

First Fatty hesitated. “About a hundred.”

“A hundred?” the burly man barked from the ground, blood trailing from his mouth as he forced himself up on one elbow. “You ignorant fools. There are nearly three thousand servants in this sect. Two hundred belong to the Servants’ Discipline Department alone. And when they hear about this, every one of them will come for you.”

His voice trembled with fury—and promise.

“All of them.”

Alex fell silent.

Three hundred wasn’t impossible for him.

But if he crushed them all, he wouldn’t just make enemies of a department—he’d provoke the entire sect. Elders. Supervisors. Every faction that feared losing control.

This would no longer be a simple grudge.

He looked at First Fatty. “Brother… is the Servants’ Discipline Department corrupt?”

First Fatty let out a cold laugh. “There’s nothing more corrupt in this place than them.”

“What do you know about—”

The burly man never finished.

Alex’s iron wok swept in a tight arc and smashed into his face. The impact flattened him. His body twitched once, then went still.

Alex lowered the wok and turned back to the fatties.

“Brothers,” he said calmly, “we can’t stand here and wait for three hundred of them to surround us. That would be stupid.”

The eight fatties exchanged uneasy glances.

“I’m thinking we go to their headquarters,” Alex continued. “We strike first. We take control of the Servants’ Discipline building and end this at the root. If we control their headquarters, we solve the problem cleanly—before it spirals.”

“Alex… just to be clear,” Third Fatty said carefully as he jogged beside him, “we’re attacking their headquarters?”

“Yes.”

“The building where all three hundred of them work?”

“Yes.”

“The place with weapons, records, chains, and torture rooms?”

Alex nodded once. “That one.”

Third Fatty ran in silence for three seconds.

“…Good. I was worried we were about to do something reckless.”

The others froze.

“You’re serious?” one of them asked.

Eight Fatty stepped forward first, eyes blazing. “It’s a good idea. I’ve been sick of those bastards for years. If we’re going to fight, we hit them where it hurts. I’ve always wanted to smash that building at least once.”

“I’m in,” another fatty said immediately.

“Count us in.”

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

One after another, their hesitation vanished.

“Well then.” Eight Fatty grinned, resting his iron wok on his shoulder. “We’re brothers. All for one, and one for all. Let’s go pay them a visit.”

A faint smile touched Alex’s lips. “Good. Who’s leading?”

“Wait,” Fifth Fatty puffed. “Shouldn’t we come up with a plan first?”

“We have one,” Alex replied.

“We do?”

“Yes.”

Eighth Fatty grinned. “Hit first. Hit hard.”

Fifth Fatty frowned. “That’s not a plan. That’s a slogan.”

Alex kept his eyes forward. “It becomes a plan if we survive it. Let’s move. Don’t worry—I’ll handle it.”

“I’ll lead,” Sixth Fatty said. Smallest of the group, but the fastest. “Just follow me.”

He took off immediately.

The others thundered after him, heavy steps shaking the path. Alex ran beside them with effortless ease.

From a distance, it must have looked absurd—

Eight massive, round-bodied men charging forward with iron woks in hand—

And Alex moving beside them like a calm blade cutting through the wind.

Ridiculous.

Unstoppable.

After nearly fifteen minutes, the Servants’ Discipline Department headquarters came into view.

A large three-story structure built of dark stone, with narrow, unforgiving windows. It looked less like an office and more like a fortress.

Alex slowed, studying it.

“I’m going inside,” he said calmly. “I’ll take control of the building and check their account books. I don’t believe for a second we won’t find dirt. Can you block the front door and make sure no one gets in?”

The eight fatties exchanged looks.

Then they nodded.

Without another word, they marched to the entrance and planted themselves in front of the massive wooden doors. Their broad frames formed a living barricade.

No one was getting through.

Alex stepped inside alone.

The moment he crossed the threshold, several members spun toward him.

“What are you doing here?” one shouted. “You’re not allowed inside!”

“Where is your leader’s office?” Alex asked flatly.

“Get out!”

The iron wok flashed.

A sharp crack echoed through the hall as it connected with the man’s face. He dropped instantly, unconscious.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Alex lifted the wok slightly, eyes sweeping across the stunned faces.

“Where is the leader’s office?” he asked again.

Silence.

He took a step forward.

“For every person who doesn’t answer,” he said evenly, “I’ll start breaking heads.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

One man, trembling, raised both hands. “Third floor! It’s on the third floor! Please!”

“Good.”

Alex turned and sprinted toward the staircase.

“Stop! You can’t—”

The wok swung again.

Another body hit the floor.

Outside, First Fatty and the others held their ground at the entrance like human barricades.

But the disturbance had already spread.

More members began returning—and this time, they weren’t alone.

An elder arrived with them.

“All of you fatties!” the elder roared, stepping forward as his robes swept behind him. His presence was heavy, oppressive. “What are you doing at the Servants’ Discipline Department headquarters? Do you have a death wish?”

The fatties exchanged uneasy looks.

“Move away from the door,” the elder commanded coldly. “Come here and kneel before I break every bone in your bodies.”

First Fatty swallowed and leaned toward the others.

“What do we do?”

“Number Nine said to hold the front until he finishes,” one whispered.

“But he’s not back yet.”

“Then what?”

A tense silence passed between them.

“If we move, he’ll be trapped inside,” another said.

“And if we don’t,” someone muttered, “the elder might execute us.”

They looked at each other again.

Then something hardened in their expressions.

Without another word, they turned back toward the elder and the approaching members. Each fatty lifted his iron wok and held it firmly in front of his chest.

“We’re not moving,” First Fatty said, his voice shaking but steady. “If you want to execute us, then do it.”

The elder’s face darkened with fury.

“How dare you!”

He drew his sword in one smooth motion. Steel rang as it cleared the sheath.

“If I don’t cut off each of your arms today,” he thundered, “then my name isn’t Jun Sik!”