Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 615

The Almighty Dominance Chapter 615

Alex stood within the illusory realm of the swordplay trial.

An elder materialized before him, robes stirring as though an invisible wind brushed against them.

“This is the Wudang Seven Moons,” the elder said.

He raised his sword and began to move.

Each arc of the blade summoned seven luminous moons that floated through the air like pale lanterns, their silver light flowing alongside every strike. The technique was elegant yet ruthless—a deadly dance of moonlight and steel.

When the demonstration ended, the elder lowered his sword and looked directly at Alex.

“If you can withstand seven times seven strikes—forty-nine in total—you may advance. You have one hour to study the technique.”

For most people, seeing the art once would never be enough. Only someone blessed with extraordinary talent and luck could grasp even the basics.

But Alex had Gaia.

The system captured every movement perfectly—every angle, every shift in breathing, every subtle transfer of weight. Then it replayed the sequence hundreds of times within his mind.

Alex sat in meditation as the hour passed in the real world.

Meanwhile, Gaia drew him into a realm of pure thought where time stretched nearly a hundredfold.

There, Alex immersed himself completely in the sword art.

He repeated the forms until they settled into his muscles like instinct. Then he sparred against phantom opponents wielding the same moonlit technique.

Every clash refined him further.

The hour finally ended.

The elder attacked instantly, his blade flashing like silver lightning.

Alex rose to meet him.

He did not merely survive the first forty-nine strikes.

He answered them with the very same technique.

Moonlight bloomed from Alex’s sword as his blade carved through the air in perfect rhythm.

The elder’s laughter vanished.

Their swords collided more than a hundred times, each clash sharper and faster than the last.

Alex felt the rhythm sink deep into his blood.

Understanding became instinct.

Then, in one clean motion, he cut straight through the elder’s illusory body.

A calm, resonant voice echoed throughout the realm.

“You are the first to counter with the same sword art. Your score has been doubled.”

Alex’s rank shot upward to fourth place.

Another elder appeared before him.

“Now witness the Wudang Seven Suns.”

The second demonstration was even fiercer.

Every swing ignited seven blazing suns that burned across the empty void with overwhelming heat.

Once again, Alex studied the technique through Gaia, diving into the slowed realm of thought.

And once again, when the battle began, he met the elder’s flames with fire of his own.

Their blades crashed together in a storm of blazing light.

Alex pressed forward steadily, confidence radiating from him, until his sword finally pierced through the elder’s defense.

His rank rose again.

Third place.

Outside the illusionary realm, the crowd had fallen completely silent.

Then whispers spread through the terraces like cracks splintering across glass.

Every eye locked onto the ranking stele.

Kuang Liang stared at the glowing names, his expression frozen in disbelief.

“Third rank…” he whispered hoarsely. “He’s really in third place.”

Nothing about it made sense.

Thousand Herbs Peak trained disciples to cultivate herbs, tend spiritual gardens, and refine medicine.

They were healers and farmers—not swordsmen.

Someone from that peaceful peak should never have been able to dominate the sword trial like this.

It was as absurd as watching a village farmer defeat a battle-hardened war hero.

Yet the evidence glowed before them in cold, undeniable light.

Kuang Liang could barely close his mouth.

He knew better than anyone how brutal the climb through the rankings truly was.

Countless disciples broke mentally and emotionally trying to surpass rank twenty-five.

And now this man had stormed all the way to third.

“How long has it been since someone reached third rank?” a nearby disciple asked quietly.

“Nearly five hundred years,” another answered. “The last was Huang Jie—the only disciple in Wudang history to become Leader of the Murim Alliance. He remained undefeated for an entire century.”

“So Jun Jiu possesses that same level of talent?” someone breathed in shock. “We’re witnessing a living legend.”

Excitement erupted across Sword Peak.

Moments later, fireworks exploded into the sky, blooming in brilliant waves of red and gold to alert the elders that something impossible had happened.

Within minutes, several elders streaked through the air atop flying swords and landed around the stele in a swirl of robes.

Their eyes widened as they read the rankings.

“Someone finally reached third rank?” one elder said roughly, unable to hide his shock.

“Who is this Jun Jiu?” another demanded, eyes blazing with excitement. “I must take him as my disciple.”

No one felt prouder than the disciples of Thousand Herbs Peak.

Their chests swelled with joy so intense it felt as though they themselves had climbed those impossible ranks.

Soon their voices rose together in a thunderous chant.

“Jun Jiu! Jun Jiu! Jun Jiu!”

High atop the main peak, the Sect Master watched the scene unfold below.

A long sigh escaped him.

“Even I never reached third rank on that stele,” he murmured softly. “And it has stood for ten thousand years.”

He lifted his gaze toward the heavens.

“If our generation produced even a single disciple capable of entering the top five, it would already be enough to restore Wudang’s name throughout the Murim. But third rank…”

His eyes glistened with emotion.

“When the sect had fallen to its lowest point, when the world had nearly forgotten us, Heaven showed mercy.”

“It sent us a savior.”

Beside him, Li Qingxue felt warmth spread quietly through her chest, melting the frost that had long settled around her heart.

The Sect Master had rescued her as an abandoned infant and given her a home.

Everything she had now belonged to Wudang.

Whatever price the sect demanded, she would pay it willingly if it meant Wudang could rise again.

Suddenly, ripples spread through the air above Sword Peak.

An illusion materialized.

Seven silver moons appeared overhead, glowing with soft, flowing light that washed across the crowd like liquid starlight.

Gasps erupted everywhere.

The Sword Peak elders trembled visibly.

“That…” one elder whispered shakily, “that is the lost Wudang Seven Moons. It vanished five hundred years ago. I never thought I would see it again before my death.”

While the elders stood frozen in shock, the Sect Master’s eyes sharpened with fierce hope.

“At last,” he breathed. “Wudang’s legendary lost sword art has returned. This boy will shake the entire Murim.”

Before anyone could recover, the seven moons dissolved.

In their place, seven blazing suns erupted into existence, radiating golden fire.

Every elder—and even the Sect Master himself—stared upward in stunned disbelief.

“Wudang… Seven Suns,” someone stammered.

“That sword art disappeared a thousand years ago,” another elder said weakly. “How… how can it appear now?”

“Don’t tell me Jun Jiu mastered both lost arts…”

No one could process what they were seeing.

At Wudang’s lowest point in the Murim, miracles that should have remained buried in legend had suddenly returned to life.

Then the vision changed again.

Beside the seven blazing suns, the seven silver moons reappeared.

Moonlight and sunlight shone together in perfect harmony.

Ancient.

Balanced.

Invincible.

The elders stood motionless, their eyes wide with disbelief.

None of them had imagined such a thing was even possible.

Only the Sect Master trembled violently from head to toe.

Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees beneath the vision.

The seven moons radiated cool silver yin.

The seven suns blazed with golden yang.

Slowly, they began to revolve around one another in perfect balance until their lights merged into a flawless yin-yang symbol suspended in the heavens.

A brilliant multicolored radiance burst outward, flooding Sword Peak in colors no one present had ever seen before.

The elders could only stare in silence.

No records described such a phenomenon.

No legends fully explained it.

Tears streamed freely down the Sect Master’s weathered face.

In his mind, he was once again a young disciple standing beside his own master, listening to the old man speak with longing.

“There is a legend,” his master had once said, “of a sword art personally created by Wudang’s founder. No one has ever successfully recreated it.”

“It survives only in stories now.”

“If I could witness that art before I die, it would be Heaven’s greatest blessing.”

Now the vision pulsed overhead with living light.

The yin-yang symbol rotated in perfect harmony, and at its center appeared a heavenly realm where sky, earth, and existence itself seemed perfectly balanced.

The Sect Master’s voice trembled as he whispered the name he had waited his entire life to say.

“Wudang’s Heaven Sword Art…”

Then he repeated the final words of the legend like a sacred prayer.

“Undefeatable beneath the heavens.”

Li Qingxue’s breath caught.

Silently, she repeated the words to herself.

Undefeatable beneath the heavens.

Could it truly be possible?

Wudang had long fallen to the bottom ranks among the seven great sects and five great clans.

But in this single moment, everything had changed.

With Jun Jiu and the return of the lost arts, Wudang could rise once more within the Murim Alliance.

More than that—

its name could shake the entire Jianghu.

While the crowd remained entranced by the vision in the sky, no one noticed the ranking stele shift once again.

Jun Jiu’s rank quietly rose from third…

to second.

Only the final trial remained.