A familiar sound from the front faintly reached them: "You bald pest, you've chased me from Guan River Mouth into the game, and you're still chasing me here. Did I steal your wife or did I dig up your ancestors' graves?"
The Monk sneered: "I had a perfectly good pot of dog meat and you ruined it. How could I forgive you? Do you know how hard it is to get a good pot of dog meat on Spirit Mountain?"
Yi Zheng was speechless—a monk eating meat?
Eating on Spirit Mountain, no less!
What is this guy even thinking?
Isn't he afraid that the Buddha would slap him dead?
"Rabbit, tell me, isn't this entirely his fault?" the Monk suddenly asked Yi Zheng.
Yi Zheng's ears were caught by the Monk, leaving him no choice but to agree. So he shouted, "Master Buddha is right; nothing is worse than being hungry and having someone steal your food! Buddha, I'm with you!" Yi Zheng shouted.
