The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 574

Everyone could see it.

The Tiger Group’s outer disciple staggered backward, his face smashed flat by the iron wok that had just collided with it.

Blood poured from his mouth. His two front teeth were gone. Completely gone.

He swayed for half a second, eyes unfocused, then collapsed onto the stone platform in a heap—humiliated, broken, ugly in defeat.

A ripple of shock ran through the crowd.

Eight Fatty didn’t hesitate. He stomped onto the platform, grabbed the fallen disciple by the collar, and dragged him across the stone like a sack of trash. The man’s heels scraped uselessly against the ground.

With a final grunt, Eight Fatty hurled him off the edge of the platform. The body rolled and landed hard at the feet of the Tiger Group.

“Take your useless disciple back,” Eight Fatty barked.

“You—!” The injured Tiger Group disciple tried to rise, fury blazing in his bloodshot eyes.

“What?” Eight Fatty shot back, folding his arms. His voice boomed across the square. “This platform is sacred. If you can’t accept that you’re a loser, then send someone up here and prove me wrong. If you still can’t win, then shut your mouth.”

He leaned forward, sneering.

“Or what? You think Wudang Sect teaches people to fight with their mouths? With empty words?”

The insult hit like a slap.

“Fight me!”

A figure leapt onto the platform in a clean arc, landing with steady precision. His robes fluttered before settling against his tall frame.

“I don’t care what tricks you’re using,” the man said coldly. “You will die on my sword.”

The crowd exploded.

“It’s Lie Zun!”

“The Top Five of the Dragon Group!”

“He’s been an outer disciple for nearly forty years!”

“That kitchen servant is dead!”

Excitement surged like wildfire. Voices rose. Bets shifted. Eyes gleamed with greed.

And above all the noise, one voice roared louder than the rest.

Eight Fatty.

“Oh no! Oh no!” he shouted dramatically, clutching his head as if in despair. “The Dragon Group has unleashed one of their Five Dragons! Our Number Nine is in grave danger!”

He paused—just long enough.

Then his tone flipped.

“Come on! Hurry! Bet your precious items now! Twenty times the return! If you win this round, you can recover everything you lost before!”

The other fatties on the platform joined him, shouting at the top of their lungs.

“Number Nine will lose this time! Don’t miss your chance!”

“Look at these treasures! They could all be yours!”

Everyone knew the fatties were manipulating them.

They knew.

But greed was a louder voice than reason.

Twenty times.

The number echoed in their minds like a curse.

One by one, disciples stepped forward, hands trembling as they placed their precious items onto the betting table. Rings. Pills. Spirit stones. Weapons. Family heirlooms.

Some hesitated.

Some swallowed hard.

But they still bet.

Alex stood quietly at the center of the platform, watching the growing pile of treasures. He scanned the crowd carefully.

More and more people were hesitating now.

The earlier frenzy was fading.

Doubt was creeping in.

If this continued, the betting momentum would die.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Alex lowered his voice.

“Gaia,” he said calmly, without moving his lips too much. “I have an idea.”

“I, Lie Zun, will kill you!” the Dragon group outer disciple roared.

He lunged forward the instant the words left his mouth. His sword flashed in a clean silver arc, sharp and precise.

Alex barely reacted in time. The blade sliced through the air—and through fabric. Cloth tore. A strip of his sleeve fluttered to the ground.

A roar burst from the crowd.

“This time the kitchen servant will lose!”

Lie Zun didn’t slow down. He advanced like a storm breaking loose. One cut. Two. Four. Five. Each strike was clean, ruthless, calculated to kill.

The sword light wrapped around Alex from every angle.

Gasps rippled through the spectators.

The blade came so close it shaved threads from Alex’s robe. Cloth split again and again—but never flesh.

People held their breath. No one blinked.

Lie Zun’s face flushed deep red, anger swelling in his veins. “You!” he snapped. “How long do you plan to run like a coward?”

Alex didn’t answer.

Instead, as he stepped back, he flicked his foot. A small stone chipped loose from the platform’s edge. It skidded across the surface to a precise spot—exactly where Gaia had predicted.

Lie Zun inhaled sharply and launched forward again.

“Wudang Thirteen Steps!”

His movement technique exploded into motion. His body blurred. His right foot came down—

On the stone.

It was only half a second.

But half a second was enough.

His balance shifted. His weight tilted.

And in the next heartbeat—

Bang.

The iron wok slammed into his face like a falling hammer.

The sound rang across the square.

Lie Zun’s vision shattered into white light. Before he could recover, Alex followed through, the iron wok crashing down again with brutal force.

Lie Zun hit the ground hard.

Silence.

Then the square erupted.

“That’s cheating!”

“He slipped on a stone!”

“That doesn’t count!”

“He won by luck! If not, he’d already be dead!”

The protests rolled like thunder.

Before anyone could escalate further, the First Fatty jumped onto the platform. Without ceremony, he grabbed Lie Zun by the leg and dragged him toward the edge.

“A loss is a loss!” he shouted, voice booming. “Why are you barking like stray dogs?”

With a grunt, he flung Lie Zun off the platform toward the Dragon Group.

The insult landed harder than the fall.

The faces of the Tiger Group and the Dragon Group turned crimson. They were the elite among outer disciples. They were feared. Respected. Never mocked.

And now?

They were being humiliated by a kitchen servant holding a wok.

“If Lie Zun almost killed that kitchen trash,” someone from the Dragon Group growled, “then we’ll send Number Three. You Huang Po, step up.”

But before the Dragon Group could move, the Tiger Group acted first. Another outer disciple leapt onto the platform.

The crowd gasped.

“That’s Ma Xiu!”

“Top Three of the Tiger Group!”

Excitement surged again.

“Oh damn,” Big Fatty shouted dramatically. “Ma Xiu is even stronger than Lie Zun! If Lie Zun was at the Seventh Level of Qi Condensation, then Ma Xiu is already at the Eighth Level!”

He slapped his thigh for emphasis.

“The kitchen servant has no future now!”

“Come on! Hurry and bet! Maybe this time you’ll actually win!”

One of the men in the crowd snapped. His face was red with fury, his eyes bloodshot from frustration.

“Bet? Bet what?” he shouted. “I’ve already bet everything I own! What do you expect me to wager now? You’ve taken all my money and valuables!”

First Fatty didn’t even blink. He smiled slowly, the kind of smile that belonged to a devil at a marketplace.

“Don’t you still have clothes?” he asked lightly. “You can bet your clothes. Maybe you’ll win everything back.”

The words hung in the air.

For a moment, the man froze. Then something shifted in his eyes—desperation turning into reckless hope.

As if struck by sudden enlightenment, he tore off his outer robe and flung it onto the gambling pile.

A few gasped.

Then others followed.

Robes. Sashes. Jackets. One by one, they were thrown forward, landing in a heap of cloth and greed.

“The fifth match begins!” First Fatty bellowed.

Ma Xiu didn’t waste time with speeches. He rushed forward the instant the words were spoken. His movement was sharper than Lie Zun’s—cleaner, faster, heavier with killing intent.

This time, Alex didn’t escape so easily.

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