The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 667

The fifth floor of the Prime Minister’s pavilion detonated outward in a storm of splintered timber and pulverized stone.

An old man in blood-red robes descended through the smoke on a blade of pure qi, his sword still singing with the force of the strike. He landed amid the wreckage, eyes blazing, and drove the weapon through the two figures seated at the war table.

They did not bleed. They did not scream. The blade passed through them as if through colored mist. The images of Alex Bai and Zhuge Liang flickered once, twice, then dissolved into harmless light and scattered pixels.

Namgung Hyuk froze. The righteous fury on his ancient face cracked into raw disbelief.

Below, thirty meters underground in a reinforced bunker lined with concrete and layered wards, Alex and Zhuge Liang remained perfectly still, but the faint tightening around his eyes said he understood the same terrible truth.

This one had gotten through.

Alex had prepared for exactly this moment. Every sensitive meeting between Prime Minister and strategist happened down here, in the buried heart of the pavilion. On the fifth floor, Gaia-linked holograms played their parts—perfect copies that moved and spoke.

The real men never sat exposed where an assassin’s blade could reach them.

Changyi lay at the center of Yan and Qing like a beating heart. Alex had ringed both provinces with satellites and five concentric layers of drone surveillance.

Anything that entered the capital’s airspace or approached the compound larger than a sparrow triggered alerts.

In the past months, seventy-two assassins had been intercepted and neutralized before they ever reached the inner gates—Core Formation killers, poison experts, shadow cultivators. All stopped cold.

This one had walked through every layer like they were smoke.

Only a Nascent Soul cultivator could do that.

The bunker shuddered. Dust sifted from the ceiling in thin gray streams. A deep, bone-rattling roar rolled through the earth above them, vibrating the table and the lights overhead.

“You bastard, Bai Xiaochun!” The voice thundered down through the structure, amplified by raw qi until the concrete itself seemed to groan. “Traitor to Xia! Spy for the foreign devils of Prussia! You dare bring their forbidden machines into our world and call yourself governor? Show yourself, or I will bury this entire palace and everyone in it! You have three seconds!”

Alex’s jaw locked so hard his teeth ached. Cold sweat prickled at his temples. His mind raced through contingencies with brutal clarity. The emperor was upstairs in the harem wing—safe for now, but the symbol of legitimacy Alex needed was fragile. The five governors who had just knelt were still in the city. The dikes, the refugee settlements, the long game he was playing to position Xia as a lever against the coming storm between Estoria and Prussia in three and a half years—everything could fracture if this monster brought the pavilion down.

He could not go up. Not against a Nascent Soul. Not yet.

“Gaia,” he said, voice low and steady despite the ice in his veins. “Get the Wudang Sect Master here. Now. We cannot handle this one alone.”

“Already en route, Master,” Gaia answered at once, calm and precise.

The building shook harder. Lights flickered. A hairline crack raced across the ceiling.

“One!”

Alex could picture the old man hovering in the night air above the ruined fifth floor, sword raised high, qi condensing into a single devastating arc that would shear through stone and steel like silk.

“Two!”

Zhuge Liang’s fingers remained steepled. His breathing stayed even. Only the slight forward tilt of his head showed he was listening to every vibration, calculating every possible outcome.

“Three!” Namgung Hyuk roared. “Since you hide like a coward, Bai Xiaochun, then die!”

At last Namgung broke away, chest heaving. Even after five hundred exchanges, they stood evenly matched. Fighting for ten days and nights would change nothing.

Before Feng Taiyi could answer, a clear voice rose from the ground below, steady and unafraid.

“Old Namgung Hyuk.”

Alex stepped forward from the shadow of a half-collapsed wall, his white robes marked with dust but his posture straight. He looked up at the hovering masters without a trace of fear.

“I am Bai Xiaochun. I ask you, a respected elder of the Namgung family—tell me what mistake I have made that brought you here to kill me.”

Namgung’s eyes narrowed. He swung his sword downward in a killing arc. Feng Taiyi’s blade intercepted it with a sharp ring of steel on steel.

“Listen to him first, old man,” Feng Taiyi said quietly. “We can fight for a thousand days if that is what you want. But hear his answer.”

Namgung hesitated. Then, with a growl of frustration, he let his body drop. He plummeted the last fifty feet and landed hard enough to shatter the stone courtyard in a cloud of dust and broken tiles.

He straightened slowly, sword still in hand, and fixed Alex with a glare that could have melted iron.

“First,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “all of this drone technology. It is Prussian. How dare you use it?”