"So, Finder, I just heard Batana say ’to pass through the final sacrifice...’, should we enter the middle door? My eyesight can’t see that far into the depths, so I don’t know which passage is correct."
"I’m not sure either, but there’s something you might find interesting. Your refined gold arm, this ’left hand’, was originally created by the Great Arcanists for the followers of the Limb Cutting Sect to compensate for the lack of combat ability due to missing limbs."
Lynch furrowed his brow, pondering Finder’s words. Although the refined gold arm came from this sect, and he might find related records inside, a more important and practical issue was at hand: if he couldn’t find the right path, all wishes would just be empty talk.
"The final sacrifice...", Lynch pondered the meaning of this phrase. He couldn’t ask the matron how to proceed right now because he saw she was also deep in thought, and she likely had no clues either. Just now, in Finder’s words, there was an important message, which was that the ultimate goal of the Limb Cutting Sect was to sever their own heads to completely escape the shackles of the physical body. But is the head really the correct answer?
Lynch examined the five statues on the wall, contemplating which item could achieve the purpose of the "final sacrifice". He scanned it a few times with his eyes and then smiled.
"It must be the right hand holding the knife, only with this hand can one ultimately abandon the physical body. Without the knife, nothing can be ’sacrificed’ away." The Mage had already decided on his next course of action, whatever the case, he had to enter the door of the right hand.
"Honorable Matron, which door should we take?" Tarren bowed, approaching Batana with a trembling voice.
The somewhat impatient female Drow kicked him to the ground, "Useless male! My order was for you to explore the road ahead, and now you come to ask me? Looks like you wish to become a Spider Elf and be forever tormented, huh?"
Under the matron’s wrath, Tarren scrambled up from the ground, not even brushing off the dust on his body, hurriedly dividing the leading party into five groups, each entering one of those five doors.
Time ticked by, and such waiting easily made one feel restless and uneasy. Faint wails echoed from several channels, the kind of sound that seemed to come from an abyss in hell, penetrating thick rock, though low-pitched, even if you covered your ears, the deep, searing anguish still reached your bones.
Batana’s facial muscles twitched unnaturally, she knew well that the first sacrifices had already occurred. Now, she could only hope these sacrifices would yield the necessary information.
Fortunately, after a while, a goblin sprinted out from the right-hand statue’s passage, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, as if someone had been chasing it all along. The goblin couldn’t utter a complete sentence; all the air coming from its throat was just making a "huffing and puffing" sound.
However, under the matron’s gaze, the goblin forcefully pointed towards the passage behind it and then made a motion to move inside.
"Follow me!" Batana said in a low voice, leading the large group into the "Right Hand Channel".
Lynch held back the laughter in his heart, mingling into the procession of Dark Elves moving forward together.
Everyone, please vote more, smash me to death, hehehehe.