Indeed, Lin Mu's speed was beyond what they could follow, and in re minutes, a wide swathe of the training grounds had been immaculately swept. Leaves had been gathered into neat piles, the paths were cleared, and not a speck of dust remained in his wake.
"Maybe… maybe he's a cleaning immortal too," one of the younger monks muttered in awe.
From a distance, Lin Mu chuckled as he continued his work, not out of obligation, but out of peace.
After clearing the training grounds with supernatural ease, Lin Mu casually returned the broom and nodded at the junior monks.
"There we go. All nice and clean," he said cheerfully.
The monks stared at the training grounds, then at the broom, then at Lin Mu, as if unsure whether they had just witnessed a divine cleaning technique or so kind of sect illusion art.
"Amitabha… Honored Guest," one of the bolder monks stepped forward with a hesitant smile, "you… you don't have to do everything, you know."
"I don't mind," Lin Mu replied, brushing off so stray dust from his sleeve. "It's quite relaxing, actually."
"Y-yes, but…" another monk whispered behind the first, "he just did all our afternoon chores in, like, ten minutes…"
Lin Mu, oblivious or perhaps politely ignoring their mild panic, turned and looked around. "Hmm. What's next?"
Before they could redirect him elsewhere, Lin Mu's immortal sense swept across the nearby courtyards. His eyes lit up. "Ah, laundry!"
He vanished in a blink.
When the junior monks arrived at the clotheslines five minutes later, they found every robe cleaned, rinsed, wrung, and hung with symtrical perfection. The scent of fresh lotus leaves and mountain spring water wafted gently in the breeze.
One monk picked up a folded robe and gasped. "It's… warm? Did he steam this with Fire Qi?"
Another murmured, "I thought this was going to take us three hours…"
In the distance, Lin Mu strolled toward the temple gardens, hands tucked behind his back, humming lightly to himself.
"Wait! The gardens!" one monk suddenly realized.
By the ti they caught up, Lin Mu had already pruned the trees, swept the gravel into immaculate concentric patterns, removed weeds from the vegetable patch, tied bamboo supports for the bean plants, and planted new tomato saplings along the furrows.
He stood admiring his work, expression serene.
"…Master Lin," ca a cautious voice.
"Hm?" Lin Mu turned around to find a small group of senior monks and novices standing in formation, their expressions torn between admiration and alarm.
"Amitabha," the senior monk in front began carefully, "we are… deeply grateful for your generosity and enthusiasm in aiding our humble temple."
Lin Mu nodded humbly.
"But," the monk continued, clearing his throat, "we also feel… perhaps it would be best if you, uh… let us carry out so of our own responsibilities."
Lin Mu raised an eyebrow. "You don't want help?"
"Oh no, not at all! We simply wish to grow through hardship, cultivate patience, build character, you know… sweep a little dust, wash a little robe," the monk said, eyes slightly pleading.
A younger novice chid in from the back, "If you do all the chores, we'll forget how to sweep!"
"And we won't get assigned kitchen duty as punishnt anymore!" another added with surprising sorrow.
"…You're sad about kitchen duty?" Lin Mu blinked.
"It's how we train our minds!" soone blurted. "And develop arm strength!"
Lin Mu rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then gave them a slight smile. "Alright. I understand. You need your suffering."
All the monks bowed gratefully.
"But I'll still do so chores," he added.
A few shoulders tensed.
"…Just one or two," he clarified, amused.
They all exhaled in unison.
With the garden pristine and the afternoon sun beginning to sink behind the mountain ridge, Lin Mu returned to the courtyard where ng Bai was still practicing with his spear, drenched in sweat.
The boy paused, panting, and asked, "Did you go for a walk again, Master?"
"Sothing like that," Lin Mu chuckled. "How's your form coming along?"
"I can do the first five sets in a single breath now," ng Bai said proudly, twirling the spear once before slamming it down on the ground with a dull thunk leaving fine cracks on it.
It was rather impressive that he could exert such strength with ease.
"Progress is progress," Lin Mu nodded. "Rember, control matters more than flair."
"Yes, Master!"
As the golden light of evening washed over the temple grounds, bells chid gently in the distance, signaling the coming of evening ditation.
Monks shuffled toward the main halls, robes fluttering, incense beginning to burn once again. The rhythm of temple life resud, slow and steady.
Lin Mu looked down at his hands—still clean despite everything—and stretched his arms.
He had cooked, cleaned, taught, trimd, swept, repaired a loose lantern earlier (though no one noticed), and even reorganized the scripture scrolls in the west wing when he passed by.
Yet, despite doing so much, he felt more rested than he had in months.
Peace was a strange thing—it didn't co from stillness, but from the absence of burden. Today, he had done much, but none of it weighed on him.
Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to understand why the monks smiled so easily.
Just then, one of the younger monks jogged up to him, hands clasped.
"Honored Guest! We were wondering… would you lead the morning chores tomorrow?"
Lin Mu blinked. "Didn't you just ask to stop doing them?"
"Yes, but… if you supervise, maybe the rest of us will do them faster out of sheer fear of being outdone."
Lin Mu laughed, genuinely amused. "Very well. But only if you promise not to stop from more chores."
"No promises!" the monk grinned and dashed off.
Lin Mu shook his head and glanced at the sky.
The clouds were turning pink. Sowhere nearby, a bell chid thrice.
It was ti for dinner.
Tonight's dinner was relatively better, even if it was made by the monks.
"This tastes better." ng Bai said with surprise.
"Amitabha, looks like they learned a thing or two from Daoist Lin Mu," Monk Hushu who had returned a while back, muttered.
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