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The Almighty Dominance Chapter 627
The old sect master stood motionless atop Blacksmith Peak, the broken remains of Cloud-Piercing Sword still trembling in his hand.
Wind swept across the mountain ridges, carrying the distant hum of drones and the laughter of disciples training far below.
An army.
Jun Jiu had turned Wudang into an army.
Not merely a sect. Not a school. Not a sacred mountain preserving ancient teachings.
An empire in waiting.
The old master closed his eyes slowly.
Ten years ago, when he entered seclusion, Wudang had been fading. Their mines were empty. Their disciples weak. Their elders old and cautious. Every year they lost more influence across the murim while rival sects grew bolder.
He had believed the sect would survive another century if fate was kind.
Now?
Now Wudang could shake the entire world.
Yet instead of relief, unease clawed at his chest.
He opened his eyes again and looked toward the distant horizon beyond the mountains of Xia.
“Qingxue,” he said quietly, “do you understand what this means?”
She nodded once. “Yes, Master.”
“If the Murim Alliance learns the true extent of our strength before Jun Jiu is ready…” His voice hardened. “Every sect in Xia will unite against us. Shaolin. Heavenly Demon Palace. Tang Clan. All of them.”
Li Qingxue remained calm. “Jun Jiu already expected that.”
The old master gave a bitter laugh. “Of course he did.”
For the first time since emerging from seclusion, he truly understood the terrifying thing Jun Jiu had created.
The drones, the factories, the endless pills, the mines, the automated forges… none of them were the true foundation.
The real foundation was speed.
Traditional sects needed centuries to grow powerful.
Jun Jiu had compressed centuries into ten years.
No.
Less than ten.
The old master suddenly remembered the cultivation aura flowing through the mountain when he first emerged. Back then he had been too overwhelmed to fully process it.
Now he understood.
Wudang was no longer merely cultivating disciples.
It was mass-producing them.
His fingers tightened unconsciously around the broken sword hilt.
“Four hundred Core Formation experts…” he muttered.
Even the imperial court of Xia might not possess such terrifying power gathered in one place.
And Jun Jiu wanted one thousand.
The old master finally looked toward Li Qingxue again. “How loyal are they?”
“All of them?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
Li Qingxue did not hesitate.
“They would die for him.”
The answer hit harder than the shattered sword.
Not for Wudang.
For him.
The old master suddenly saw the invisible structure beneath everything Jun Jiu had built.
The Gaia systems teaching every disciple.
The endless resources.
The impossible breakthroughs.
The miracles.
Jun Jiu had not simply given people power.
He had given them hope.
That was far more dangerous.
The old master exhaled slowly and gazed toward the sky where cargo drones crossed between peaks like streams of silver birds.
“Perhaps…” he whispered, “our founder was never the greatest genius Wudang produced after all.”
Li Qingxue smiled faintly but said nothing.
The old master stood silently for a long time before speaking again.
“You said he already left for Xia?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
The old master blinked. “Three months? Then why are you only telling me now?”
Li Qingxue coughed lightly into her sleeve. “Because he predicted your exact reaction.”
The old master narrowed his eyes. “And what reaction was that?”
“He said the moment you woke up and saw the mountain, you would either faint, start screaming, or immediately try to drag him back before he could execute the next phase of his plan.”
A painful silence followed.
“…Accurate,” the old master admitted reluctantly.
Li Qingxue almost smiled.
The old master rubbed his temples.
“Did he at least explain where he was going?”
“He said he was heading toward the Murim Alliance territories first.”
The old master’s face changed instantly. “Alone?”
“At first, yes.”
“At first?”
Li Qingxue pointed toward the skies beyond the distant eastern ridge.
The old master followed her gaze.
Far above the clouds, dozens of enormous black aerial ships drifted silently through the heavens.
Not spirit boats.
Not flying treasures.
Something else entirely.
Massive.
Cold.
Terrifying.
Each vessel bore the symbol of Wudang engraved along its metallic hull in glowing silver characters.
The old master felt his scalp go numb.
“How many…” he whispered.
“Fifty sky-carriers so far,” Li Qingxue replied calmly. “Each one can transport ten thousand disciples, supplies, and heavy weapons.”
“Weapons?”
Li Qingxue hesitated.
That hesitation frightened him more than anything else he had seen today.
Finally, she answered carefully.
“Jun Jiu said traditional cultivators rely too heavily on personal strength.”
The old master already disliked where this was going.
“He wanted weapons that ordinary disciples could use to threaten higher realms.”
“…And?”
Li Qingxue looked away toward the distant carriers.
“He succeeded.”
The old master nearly dropped the broken sword entirely.
“What kind of weapon?”
“The first models are called Spirit Rail Cannons.”
“…Cannons?”
“They compress spiritual energy into concentrated beams.”
The old master stared blankly.
Li Qingxue continued softly.
“One direct hit can severely injure a Core Formation cultivator.”
Silence.
Utter silence.
The wind itself seemed to stop.
The old master suddenly understood why Jun Jiu dared to challenge the Murim Alliance.
This was not rebellion.
This was replacement.
Jun Jiu was building a completely new era.
An era where talent mattered less than systems.
Where resources could be industrialized.
Where power could be replicated.
Where sects no longer relied on a handful of ancient geniuses to dominate the weak.
The old master looked down at the transformed Wudang Sect below him.
Glass towers gleamed beneath the sunlight.
Drones crossed the skies.
Millions of pills moved through automated lines.
Disciples cultivated in formation halls overflowing with spiritual qi.
And somewhere far away in Xia…
Jun Jiu was already preparing the next step.
The old master laughed suddenly.
A long, helpless laugh filled with disbelief and exhaustion.
“My heavens,” he muttered. “I only asked that boy to make Wudang the number one sect.”
He looked toward the distant horizon with hollow eyes.
“I think he intends to conquer the entire world instead.”
