The Obsidian Sky Lock Formation was a formidable binding array, a towering, ethereal cage that seemed to trap even the heavens themselves.
Their flying boat, while sturdy, was not equipped to breach such a powerful barrier.
To press forward would mean certain death.
"We have no choice but to retreat! Brace yourselves—I'm landing this thing!" Elder Michael shouted, his voice laced with urgency.
He immediately took action, guiding the vessel downward with all the skill he could muster.
The descent was as rough and jarring as the earlier attack, the boat groaning under the strain.
Despite the danger, Elder Michael's sharp mind quickly pieced together one crucial fact: their attackers had not destroyed the boat outright, though they clearly could have.
"They want us alive," he muttered to himself, his brows furrowed deeply.
"Whether that's a blessing or a curse, I don't know yet."
Thud!
