The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 627

Li Qingxue’s hand rested lightly on his arm, steadying him as they drifted downward. She guided him through the humming sea of green until they hovered just above a cluster of seven-colored spirit orchids.

Their petals shimmered like living jewels, pulsing with dense medicinal qi. The old master reached out with trembling fingers and plucked one ripe fruit from a low branch. It was warm, heavy, and perfect—its skin velvety beneath his callused palm.

Real. It was all real.

He had once heard from his master that whenever this fruit appeared in the world, Murim warriors would slaughter one another just to claim it. Hundreds had died for a single fruit, as it could boost one’s cultivation by fifty years.

Yet now, with all these fruits lying before him, no one was fighting for them.

Truly, times had changed.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then slipped it into his robe like a sacred relic. “Lead on, Qingxue,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Show me the rest of the Peaks. Every single one.”

She bowed once, eyes soft with understanding, and together they rose into the sky.

Over the next hours they swept across the entire mountain range, peak by peak. Each stop struck the old master like a fresh blow to the chest.

As they swept over Spirit Array Peak, the old master stared in stunned silence. A majestic lattice of towering crystalline spires now crowned the mountain, each one glowing with soft, pulsing light like living pillars of starlight. The air around them hummed with raw power.

Li Qingxue floated beside him, her voice calm and clear. “This peak is only the central command hub, Master. These towers can activate powerful protective formations across the entire Wudang Sect in seconds. But we’ve built dozens more along the outer borders and mountain ridges. They form a giant net that constantly pulls spiritual energy from every direction—the forests, the rivers, the sky itself—and channels it straight into the heart of the sect.”

She gestured across the vast landscape below. “The result is remarkable. The concentration of spiritual qi across all of Wudang has increased nearly a hundred times compared to ten years ago. The air itself feels thicker now, richer, almost alive with power.”

Li Qingxue’s tone carried quiet pride as she finished. “We have thousands of formations interlocking perfectly, cycling and reinforcing each other without pause. They don’t just protect us. They nourish every blade of grass, every disciple, and every building in our domain.”

The old master’s breath caught in his throat. A hundred times the spiritual energy. In ten short years. He could feel the difference even now—the qi pressing gently against his skin like a warm, endless tide. What had once required constant effort and costly pills now flowed freely, like breathing.

He swallowed hard, the weight of generations of struggle pressing on his chest.

By the time they reached Blacksmith Peak, the old master’s heart felt battered raw. He had expected the familiar ring of hammers on anvils, the roar of forges, the sweat and song of disciples laboring for days to birth a single blade. Instead, the entire peak had transformed into a humming cathedral of industry.

Sleek drones—dozens of them—glided silently through open-air foundries, melting raw ore harvested from the new mines and pouring it into precise molds. Molten metal flowed like liquid starlight, shaped in seconds by arrays of glowing runes.

No more back-breaking labor. No more weeks of hammering. The drones produced flawless ingots of spiritual steel, each one purer and stronger than anything the sect had forged in centuries.

The blacksmith disciples—only a handful now—stood at wide design tables in a sunlit hall, sketching weapon blueprints. Their brushes moved with calm focus, refining elegant curves and lethal edges.

They never touched the raw metal. Their only role came at the very end: when a finished blade emerged from the final quenching chamber, a disciple would step forward, press both palms to the hilt, and pour their own spiritual energy into it, awakening the weapon’s spirit.

The old master stared, jaw tight, as another perfect sword slid out of a machine—gleaming, balanced, already humming with latent power. “They… they don’t forge anymore,” he whispered. “They design. The machines do everything else.”

Before he could say more, a tall elder in a soot-stained robe hurried forward, bowing deeply. Elder Bao, master of the peak, had aged well in the decade the old master had been gone. His eyes sparkled with quiet pride.

“Welcome back, Sect Master,” Elder Bao said, voice warm. “I see Qingxue has been giving you the tour. If I may be so bold… your weapon looks a little dated. Would you allow me to present you with something better? We have several new models ready for Core Formation experts.”

The old master’s hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sacred blade—Cloud-Piercing Sword, one of only three such treasures in the entire Wudang sect.

Forged four hundred years ago by the greatest blacksmith master of that era, the blade could slice through mountains yet still retain its razor-sharp edge. Pride flared hot in his chest.

“This sword has served me through three great wars,” he said, drawing it with a ringing chime. “It is no ordinary weapon. I doubt your new toys could match it.”

Elder Bao smiled—not mocking, simply certain—and reached casually to a nearby rack. He selected a sleek black blade at random. The sword looked unassuming, its edge catching the light like dark glass.

“This one cost us roughly three hundred thousand spiritual stones to produce,” he said mildly. “High-grade spiritual steel, triple-layered rune matrix, self-sharpening core. Please, Master. Test it against yours. No harm in a friendly clash.”

The old master snorted. “You would break your own blade, Elder. Cloud-Piercing has never been bested.”

He raised the sword and brought it down in a clean, controlled arc. Steel met steel with a sound like a thunderclap.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify