Soon afterwards the monks reflected that the Buddha had praised unattractiveness in many ways, and they devoted themselves to developing the mind in unattractiveness in its many different facets. As a consequence, they became troubled by their own bodies, ashamed of and disgusted with them. Just as a young woman or man—someone fond of adornments, with freshly washed hair—would be ashamed, humiliated, and disgusted if the carcass of a snake, dog, or man was hung around her neck, just so those monks were troubled by their own bodies. They took their own lives, took the lives of one another, and they went to Migalaṇḍika, the monastic lookalike, and said, “Please kill us. You will get our bowl and robes.” And hired for a bowl and robes, Migalaṇḍika killed a number of monks. He then took his blood-stained knife to the river Vaggumudā. While washing it, he became anxious and remorseful, thinking, “What the heck have I done? I’ve made so much demerit by killing good monks.” Then a god from the realm of the Lord of Death, coming across the water, said to Migalaṇḍika, “Well done, superior man, you’re truly fortunate. You’ve made much merit by helping across those who hadn’t yet crossed.”