Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 595

The Almighty Dominance Chapter 595

Alex’s gaze locked onto Han Fei.

Both of his arms were gone.

Blood soaked his robes, though it had stopped pouring. One of his companions had already sealed the flow, striking pressure points along his shoulders.

Another disciple knelt nearby, carefully holding the severed arms, channeling inner energy into them—preserving what life remained.

They all knew—

if treated quickly enough, the arms could still be reattached.

Silence pressed down on the courtyard.

Then Alex moved.

“You,” he said, pointing at a nearby disciple. “Give me your disciple medallion.”

The disciple froze, fear flashing across his face. “I—I don’t have enough merit points,” he stammered. “Please… don’t take mine…”

Alex let out a cold, humorless laugh.

“Who said anything about taking it from you?”

The tension eased—

but only slightly.

“I heard it costs one thousand merit points to reattach a single arm,” Alex continued, his tone flat, almost indifferent.

“I’ll pay two thousand to have both his arms treated… and another thousand to compensate for what he lost in the library.”

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd.

Three thousand merit points.

That wasn’t generosity.

That was dominance.

The disciple stared at him, stunned, then quickly handed over the medallion. The moment Alex touched it, a faint glow flickered—

points transferred instantly.

Three thousand.

Done.

Without another word, Alex dropped the medallion back into the disciple’s trembling hands.

Then he flicked the sword away.

It struck the ground with a sharp, biting sound, the blade sinking into the earth.

He didn’t look back.

He simply turned—

and walked away.

The crowd parted immediately, instinctively, as if pushed aside by an invisible force. No one dared block his path.

No one even breathed too loudly.

Behind him, Han Fei’s voice tore through the air.

“This isn’t over!” he shouted, his face twisted with pain and fury. “I’ll report this to the Elder! You attacked me—you cut off both my arms! You’ll be expelled for this!”

Alex didn’t stop.

“Yes,” he said, his voice drifting back, calm, almost bored. “Please do.”

“Tell him to throw me out. I’m already sick of this place… especially seeing people like you calling yourselves disciples.”

“I’d be glad to leave.”

“You—!” Han Fei’s voice cracked, trembling with rage. “Just wait!”

But Alex was already gone.

Gone as if he had never been there at all.

A heavy stillness settled over the courtyard.

Then—

an old man appeared.

No one saw him arrive.

One moment, the space was empty.

The next—

he was there.

Hands clasped behind his back. Eyes deep and unreadable.

Recognition spread like wildfire.

“Peak Leader!”

Voices rose in unison as everyone bowed deeply.

The Thousand Herbs Peak Leader said nothing.

His gaze lingered in the distance—where Alex had already disappeared.

He had seen everything.

Every word.

Every action.

A rare talent.

Dangerously rare.

If someone like that ever turned against the Wudang Sect…

…it wouldn’t just be a loss.

It would be a disaster.

“Peak Leader!”

Han Fei dropped to his knees, his voice shaking with urgency and pain.

“Please—you must give me justice! That new disciple attacked me—he cut off both my arms!”

Tears streamed down his face.

“I beg you… give me justice!”

The Peak Leader slowly turned to look at him.

Silence.

Then, in a voice as calm as still water—

“You struck him fifty times.”

His eyes sharpened.

“He struck you once.”

“And you still dare to ask me for justice?”

“That’s a lie!” Han Fei shouted, hoarse but defiant. “I never hit him! He attacked me first!”

The crowd shifted uneasily.

The Peak Leader didn’t move.

“You lost to him—miserably,” he said, each word measured. “Then you gathered a crowd… demanded ten thousand merit points… and even one of his arms.”

A faint shake of his head.

“And you call that justice?”

Han Fei’s expression twisted.

“Peak Leader… he humiliated me. I deserve compensation—for my dignity.”

The words had barely left his mouth—

when the air turned cold.

“Han Fei,” the Peak Leader said, his voice dropping, heavy with quiet authority, “because your uncle is an Elder, you’ve grown arrogant.”

“You flaunt your status. You manipulate others. You use his name to extort your fellow disciples.”

His eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t the first time.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“You’ve escaped punishment again and again,” he continued, “only because of who stands behind you.”

Han Fei clenched his jaw. “I’m telling the truth, Peak Leader!”

Silence followed.

Then the Peak Leader stepped forward.

“I watched you,” he said. “On the second floor.”

“I saw you strike him again and again.”

“Fifty times.”

His gaze turned sharp.

“So tell me… are you saying what I saw… was a lie?”

Han Fei’s face drained of color.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t even imagined—

that someone had been watching.

“This isn’t your first offense,” the Peak Leader continued. “You’ve caused chaos before. Driven good disciples out of Wudang.”

“All because you hide behind your uncle’s authority.”

“You’re destroying the very people who still believe in this sect,” he said. “Breaking its laws. Corrupting its foundation.”

He stopped beside the sword still embedded in the ground.

“For that,” he said quietly, “I will give you justice.”

The sword vanished.

No one saw how.

One moment it was there—

the next, gone.

Then—

it reappeared, driven back into the ground in the exact same spot, as if it had never moved.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Han Fei stood frozen.

Eyes wide.

Mouth slightly open—

as if trying to speak.

Then—

a thin red line appeared across his neck.

Time seemed to slow.

His head tilted.

Slid.

And fell.

It hit the ground with a dull, final sound.

The courtyard fell into suffocating silence.

No one breathed.

No one moved.

The Peak Leader had just beheaded him.

Effortlessly.

He turned, his gaze sweeping cold and absolute across the thirty disciples who had followed Han Fei.

“You.”

His voice alone made their knees buckle.

“You followed him without question. Without thought. Without knowing right from wrong.”

“All of you deserve to die.”

Panic erupted.

The thirty disciples dropped to their knees as one, pale and trembling.

“Peak Leader—please!”

“We didn’t know! He lied to us!”

“Please forgive us!”

“We thought we were helping him!”

Their voices overlapped, desperate, breaking.

Fear filled the air like smoke.

They finally understood.

Too late.

The Peak Leader let out a cold snort.

“Forgive you?” he said.

His gaze cut across them like a blade.

“For having no mind of your own?”

A pause.

“Fine. I’ll give you a choice.”

“Go to that man—Jun Jiu. Take Han Fei’s head with you. Return every merit point you extorted.”

“If he forgives you, you live.”

“If he doesn’t…”

His eyes hardened.

“…then I will personally take each of your heads.”

The sentence fell like judgment.

All thirty disciples went pale.

In that moment, they understood.

Han Fei hadn’t offended just anyone.

He had provoked someone far beyond their reach.

“Go. Now!”

The command thundered across the courtyard.

They scrambled to their feet, bodies shaking, ready to flee—

“Stop.”

They froze instantly.

“Someone,” the Peak Leader said coldly, “pick up Han Fei’s head.”

“…Yes.”

One disciple forced himself forward, hands trembling as he bent down.

He swallowed hard, then lifted the severed head, avoiding its lifeless eyes.

Then they ran.

Not walked.

Ran.

Fear drove them forward like a storm.

Silence returned once more.

The Peak Leader let out a long breath, his expression unreadable.

“That man… Jun Jiu,” he murmured. “Too kind.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the bloodstained ground.

“He only took two arms… and even paid to have them restored.”

A faint shake of his head.

“A man like that… won’t last long in this world if he stays that soft.”

A figure appeared beside him without warning.

The Sect Master.

“You killed Han Fei,” the Sect Master said lightly. “Aren’t you afraid his uncle will come after you?”

The Peak Leader gave a short laugh.

“I dared to do it,” he replied, “because I trust you.”

His eyes flicked sideways.

“If that Elder dares to touch your disciple… you’ll take his head as well.”

The Sect Master smiled.

“Fair enough.”

Far from the courtyard, the thirty disciples finally slowed, breathless, hearts still racing.

One of them suddenly raised his hand.

“Stop.”

They halted, turning toward him.

“What now?” someone snapped.

The disciple hesitated, then asked the question none of them wanted to face.

“…Does anyone know where Jun Jiu lives?”

Silence.

Their expressions shifted—

from fear…

to something worse.

Realization.

“I… I only heard his name,” one said weakly. “Jun Jiu…”

Another’s eyes widened.

“Wait… Jun Jiu? Isn’t he the one who took first place? The top disciple?”

A chill ran through the group.

“No wonder the Peak Leader sided with him…”

“Damn it…” someone muttered. “Han Fei really picked the wrong person.”

One disciple spat on Han Fei’s severed head.

“You dragged all of us into this mess,” he snarled. “Dying like that was too easy for you.”

“So?” another said tightly. “Does anyone actually know where he lives?”

They looked at each other.

No one answered.

No one knew.

Panic crept back in.

“Our lives are on the line,” one said, voice shaking. “Think! Please!”

“Ask your friends!”

“Anyone—just ask!”

They scattered slightly, pulling out communication talismans, whispering urgently.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

One by one, they lowered their hands.

Faces pale.

Eyes hollow.

“No one knows…”

“How is that possible?”

“A disciple that strong… and no one knows where he lives?”

A cold wind passed through them.

The thirty disciples stood there—

frozen in place—

Han Fei’s severed head still in their hands.

And for the first time since this began…

they truly felt despair.