Chapter summary of Chapter 569 – The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) by GoodNovel
In Chapter 569, a key chapter of the acclaimed billionaire novel The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) by GoodNovel, readers are drawn deeper into a story filled with emotion, conflict, and transformation. This chapter brings crucial developments and plot twists that make it essential reading. Whether you’re new to the book or a loyal fan, this section delivers unforgettable moments that define the essence of The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine).
They kept eating.
Hundred-year ginsengs. Rare spirit mushrooms. Spirit fruits and leaves that glowed faintly under the lantern light. Trays of precious herbs that would have driven ordinary disciples mad with envy.
Alex ate everything they pushed toward him. So did the other fatties.
He swallowed until his vision blurred. The rich spiritual energy surged through his veins like fire. His head spun. His face flushed red. Heat rolled off his skin, and soon white steam curled from the top of his head as if he were a boiling kettle.
He felt drunk.
No—worse than drunk.
The more he forced himself to eat, the warmer Big Fatty and the others became. Their eyes softened. Their grins widened. They watched him like proud older brothers initiating a new recruit into a secret order.
By the end, they leaned back, slapped their massive stomachs, and burst into booming laughter. The kitchen shook with it.
“Everyone,” Big Fatty First announced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We follow tradition. The last one to finish cooks. The rest go cultivate while the energy is still fresh in our bodies. Number Eight, it’s your job to tell Number Nine what to do.”
“Yes, Brother!” Number Eight beamed, his face shining with satisfaction. At last, someone ranked below him. Someone he could order around without being scolded.
One by one, Fatty Number One through Fatty Number Seven filed out of the kitchen. Their heavy footsteps faded down the corridor as they hurried off to cultivate, eager to absorb the surge of spiritual energy in their bodies.
The kitchen grew quiet.
Number Eight waited until the last of them disappeared from sight.
Then he slowly turned toward Alex.
“Number Nine,” he said proudly, “other servant departments would kill to send one of their own into the Outer Disciple Sect. But us? We’d kill to make sure we stay right here in this kitchen. Who wants to go there anyway? What’s so great about being an Outer Disciple, huh?”
His chest puffed out with pride.
“Ninth Brother, I’ll tell you the truth. Our cultivation levels? Strong enough long ago to enter the Outer Sect. Some of us could even step into the Inner Sect if we wanted.” He lowered his voice slightly. “But we prefer to hide our real strength.”
He picked up a five-hundred-year-old ginseng root and waved it casually.
“Look at this,” Number Eight said, holding up the ginseng root like a trophy. “Outer Sect disciples would kill for one bite of this treasure. Just one bite. And here we are, chewing it like it’s a common r****h.”
He snapped off a thin rootlet with his fingers and tossed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, deliberately, making sure Alex watched every second. Then he swallowed and thrust the thick root toward him.
“Do we look scared?” His eyes narrowed. “Now go on. Eat it.”
Alex’s stomach churned. The heat from the herbs was still burning through his veins. His head felt heavy, his body swollen with energy.
“Elder Brother… I’m full,” he said hoarsely, his voice strained. “I really can’t eat another bite—”
“Ninth.” Number Eight’s tone turned firm. “You’re too skinny. So skinny the girls in the sect won’t even look at you. In our Wudang Sect, they like men like us—stalwart, solid, plump!” He let out a thunderous burp and grinned.
He leaned closer. “You want to know why Wang Junhao wanted to be the core here?” His eyes gleamed. “Because we control the rare herbs. Every disciple is ready to kill for this position.”
He tapped the ginseng meaningfully against Alex’s chest.
“But not everyone can hold it.”
The fatties grinned.
And Alex, sweating, dizzy, and burning from the inside out, realized this kitchen wasn’t a joke.
It was power.
“Ninth.”
Number Eight handed him a thin, worn book. “Read this. It explains how to refine a Food Pill for cultivators. You can handle it, right?”
Alex took the manual and flipped it open.
The instructions were clear. A Food Pill was designed for cultivators who entered long periods of meditation. Instead of eating daily meals, they could swallow one pill. It contained concentrated spiritual nutrients—refined essence from herbs and spirit plants—enough to sustain the body while the mind focused on cultivation.
For ordinary cooks, this would be complex work.
For Alex, who carried the title God Hand, it was nothing more than a simple trick.
“No problem, Brother Eight,” he said calmly. “Before I came here, I worked with high-grade cooking ingredients. Something like this isn’t difficult.”
Number Eight’s face broke into a wide, satisfied grin.
“Good. Then I’ll leave it to you. I need to cultivate too.”
Without another word, he hurried off toward his room, robes fluttering behind him, leaving Alex alone in the kitchen.
Alex understood exactly why they rushed away. They had just devoured a mountain of rare herbs and century-old ginseng. If they didn’t circulate and absorb that energy immediately, it would dissipate into the air and go to waste.
He set the book aside and sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor.
Back in Prussia, he had already studied multiple cultivation arts. With the assistance of Mother AI helping him analyze and compare ancient techniques, he had examined countless systems. He had tested their strengths, mapped their weaknesses, and refined their principles.
Among all of them, one stood above the rest.
The Royal Cultivation Arts.
It was the technique he had acquired at auction.
Rare. Restricted. Forbidden to most.
Even if someone managed to obtain the manual, it didn’t mean they could practice it. The method rejected unqualified bodies. It demanded a specific lineage, a specific constitution.
Only royal blood could truly wield it.
That was why the bidding had been ruthless. That was why the price had climbed into madness. Most buyers believed it was nothing more than a collector’s relic—an ancient text no one could activate.
But when Alex practiced it, there was no resistance.
No backlash.
No rejection.
The technique moved through him as naturally as breath, as if his veins had been designed for it.
He inhaled slowly and focused.
The surrounding spiritual energy responded immediately. Not elemental energy tied to fire or water or metal—but pure, neutral force.
Raw origin energy that could later be shaped into any element he desired.
It flowed toward him without resistance.
The kitchen air trembled faintly. The lingering essence from the rare herbs he had eaten—ginseng, spirit fruits, medicinal roots—was drawn out and pulled toward his cells like iron to a magnet.
Origin energy.
Pure. Clean. Untainted.
Alex only needed half an hour.
In that short time, he absorbed every trace of refined spiritual essence that still lingered in his body. Not a single strand was wasted. He pulled it into his cells.
In the past, Alex had been taught to gather all energy into a single core—compressing it tightly at the center of his being.
The Royal Family Cultivation Art was different.
It did not confine energy to one center. It flooded the entire body. Every cell absorbed it. Every vein carried it. Every strand of muscle transformed into a vessel of pure origin force. The whole body became the core.
And for Alex, the method felt effortless.
Natural.
As if his body had been waiting for it.
When he opened his eyes, his breathing was steady and deep. His limbs felt light. His mind was clear. The heaviness from overeating was gone. In its place was a sharp, vibrant strength humming beneath his skin.
He stood and turned his attention back to the herbs laid out across the kitchen tables.
Carefully, he reread the manual on how to refine the Food Pill. Every step. Every measurement. Every temperature instruction.
The nano bots at his neck—Gaia—activated quietly. Faint data streams flickered across his vision. Calculations began instantly.
“There are ten optimized processing sequences for these food pills,” Gaia’s calm voice said inside his mind. “Each method surpasses the book’s instructions. We can produce Food Pills with approximately two thousand percent greater efficiency and potency.”
Alex wasn’t surprised.
He already understood the flaw in the manual. Some herbs neutralized each other if combined improperly.
Others lost most of their essence if heated at the wrong stage. A few required cooling cycles before integration. The book’s method was crude—wasteful.
With his own knowledge, combined with Gaia’s analysis and the cultivation texts he had studied in Prussia and Xia, a new formula took shape.
A superior formula.
If followed precisely, each pill would be worth at least twenty times more than the standard version described in the manual.


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