Chapter Twenty-Three: Unholy Ascension

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Jingliu's triumphant battle had ended with a blaze of glory, but for the High Cloud Quintet, there was no such resplendent victory. Wounded and weary, they stood amidst the smoldering wreckage, an embodiment of the dragon's relentless havoc.

Ying Xing, his once-potent magical blades reduced to jagged, worthless shards, felt the futility of his situation. The dragon, relentless and monstrous, lunged at him with sickle-like claws. Every dodge drained him further, and despair clung to his voice as he muttered, "There's no end to this nightmare."

The Blacksmith's voice quivered and broke as he desperately tried to fend off the dragon's relentless claws with his sword. "We've... faced insurmountable odds before, but this... I don't know if we can survive this," he managed to stammer, his words barely coherent amidst the chaos and fear.

The Quintet, once a beacon of unity and courage, now struggled against the relentless chaos. Baiheng, renowned for her precise strategies and cool-headed logic, found herself overwhelmed. Her sharp eyes, searching for weaknesses in the grotesque, ever-evolving flesh armor, revealed none.

The dragon's grotesque form continued to morph, and its grotesque appendages threatened to consume them. The dragon's wings, adorned with the remnants of countless corpses, were now a pulsating mass of fleshy grotesquery.

Dan Feng, his water dragons turned rogue by the dragon's gas, struggled to regain control. He muttered in despair, "I can't... they won't listen. This is hopeless."

As if to underline the hopelessness of their situation, Jing Yuan was brutally whipped by the dragon's tail. Thunderlord, once a manifestation of power and unity, shattered into dissipating sparks as Jing Yuan was sent hurtling through the air. The dragon's tail struck him, sending him crashing into a nearby wall with shattering force, the impact causing stones and debris to cascade around him.

The once-unshakable Quintet was now a fractured and desperate group, surrounded by chaos. Each member knew that defeat loomed, a stark reality that hung heavily in the air.

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Inside the hallowed halls of the Palace of Astrum, the headquarters of the Sky-Faring Commission, officers and administrators convened in a grand chamber adorned with depictions of starskiffs soaring amidst a celestial tapestry. This was the epicenter of all matters pertaining to Xianzhou's internal airspace, interstellar navigation, and the intricate mechanisms of trade. The Palace of Astrum, a symbol of authority, now echoed with hushed voices and the weight of an unprecedented crisis.

As the report of the behemoth dragon's presence in Xianzhou Yuque was presented, a heavy silence descended upon the assembly. The dragon's behemoth size and menacing aura had ignited a palpable sense of dread, making the esteemed members of the commission question the limits of their authority.

It was in this disquieting stillness that a figure, renowned for both his astute judgment and swift decisions, stepped forward. His name was Director Lian Zhi, a man whose dedication to the Sky-Faring Commission had been unwavering. His voice, resonating with gravitas, cut through the uncertainty like a starship slicing through the void.

"In the face of this dire threat," Director Lian Zhi began, "our best recourse is to deploy additional Fighter starskiffs from the Cloud Knights air force. Their swift and agile vessels are our most potent weapons against such monstrous adversaries." He gazed intently at the assembly, his voice unwavering despite the gravity of the situation. "To maximize our chances of success, we must employ large fighter starskiffs, operated in pairs. In this formation, one pilot shall steer the vessel, while another will be responsible for the turrets, offering invaluable air support to our troops."

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