The Fatty couldn't help drawing in a sharp breath. Everything he'd seen completely upended his understanding of these monks. "Weren't they supposed to be cultivating merit? How is drinking and eating meat supposed to count as merit?" They were clearly a bunch of fake monks—monks who drank and ate meat.
Jiang Cheng held his breath and gently patted the Fatty's arm, then pointed toward a corner. The Fatty looked over, and the next second, his gaze froze.
In the dim corner, several monks had gathered around someone. The monk in the middle was Huicong. At that moment, however, Monk Huicong looked utterly wretched. The other monks kept bringing him food and wine, but he clenched his teeth and refused to give in. After several attempts, the monks grew furious with embarrassment. One of them swung a slap across his face, and then they all piled on, beating and kicking him. Monk Huicong's cries of pain rang especially harshly through the night.
Gradually, the monks' behavior grew more and more outrageous. They stripped Monk Huicong naked, then whipped him with a lash soaked in liquor. Monk Huicong writhed on the floor in pain.
"Eat! Why won't you eat?" the monk wielding the lash shouted angrily. "The abbot said that drinking wine and eating meat is a form of merit. Junior Brother Huicong, why won't you cultivate merit?"
"How can you dispel your inner demons if you don't cultivate merit?"
After whipping him for a while, the monks left Monk Huicong sprawled on the ground, barely clinging to life. Then they pinned him down, pried open his mouth, and stuffed meat into it while pouring wine down his throat.
Just then, the monk holding the lash half turned around. In the dim candlelight, Jiang Cheng and the Fatty got a clear look