It Is Said That I Have Been Crushed By Dimensionality Reduction (Quick Travel) - Chapter 21

The skies deepened with ominous clouds, thickening with oppressive darkness. Thunder cracked relentlessly, echoing across the heavens.

An unspeakable weight fell upon the land. The air grew thin, sharp with a chill. Even the villagers of Zhaojia Village, hardened by life, dropped to their knees in dread silence.

Even Brother Yuan—no, the immortal who had, just the night before, eased their suffering and swept away famine and plague—now radiated an authority that none could approach.

But what the Zhao family and the county magistrate had done… had crossed an unforgivable line.

Conspiring to destroy one’s own kin—there can be no mercy.

Pale-faced, the magistrate stumbled forward and dropped to his knees, his voice trembling in terror. “I—I didn’t know you were divine!” In desperation, he turned on Zhao Pingshun. “He’s the one! He called you a cursed star, a monster! I—I only meant to help catch a demon!”

The entire crowd was deathly still.

Zhao Pingshun shook violently, dread seeping into his bones. He finally understood: Brother Yuan was no longer someone he could control, use, or trample on.

He was going to die.

Panicking, Zhao Pingshun turned to Zhao Ping’an and Lin Cuiniang. “Second Brother, Sister-in-law, please—help me. I swear I won’t ever show my face again!”

Frantically, he dragged over Zhao Fu, who had long been sidelined, hoping he’d plead on his behalf. “Father, please! Speak for me!”

The Zhao clan huddled in fear, not daring to lift their heads. Guilt weighed on them like lead.

Zhao Fu, face bloodied, raised his head weakly. “Ping’an, Cuiniang… I was wrong—” He wasn’t trying to defend Pingshun. He just didn’t want to lose all ties to Bai Yuan.

Zhao Ping’an’s expression stayed frosty. “Have you forgotten? We already signed the severance papers.”

Zhao Fu slumped, despair swallowing him whole. He aged visibly in that moment—spirit broken, hope gone.

“Father! Help me!” Zhao Pingshun cried, grabbing desperately at Zhao Fu, then turning to Mrs. Zhao. “Mother, say something!”

But she recoiled at once, terrified that even a second’s hesitation might provoke the immortal’s wrath.

Zhao Pingshun, who had been favored and spoiled his whole life, couldn’t comprehend this betrayal. In his unraveling mind, he blamed everyone—his parents for spoiling him, Lin for being incompetent, Bai Yuan and Tian Xiaowan for standing in his way.

It was always someone else’s fault.

Bai Yuan’s expression grew colder. The truth was out. The punishment could finally begin.

“Those who offend the divine shall face divine retribution.”

He didn’t want to play the role of a flawless, gentle immortal. No. People had to learn fear. What better warning than to make an example out of the magistrate and the Zhao family?

At his word, divine thunder leapt from the skies, crashing down upon those who had wronged him—the Zhao clan, the corrupt magistrate, and even the villagers who once tried to drown him.

None were spared.

Screams rang out.

Thunder lashed their bodies, burning skin, tearing through nerves and bones. The ground scorched, smoke rising from blackened grass.

It was over in moments.

Everyone else stumbled backward, trembling—only then realizing the divine lightning spared the innocent.

Bai Yuan’s voice was cool and measured. “This thunder will torment your flesh and spirit until your final breath.”

The condemned writhed, sobbing and begging for mercy. But the thunder would not cease.

The bystanders were awestruck, reverent. They’d seen divine judgment with their own eyes.

Bai Yuan stepped toward Zhao Ping’an and Lin Cuiniang. The ethereal glow around him faded, and in his patched-up clothes and childish voice, he asked gently, “Did I scare you?”

The contrast was jarring. The crowd looked on with envy—how had this humble couple earned the right to be the immortal’s family?

Lin Cuiniang quickly composed herself. “We’re alright. Your father and I are fine.”

Bai Yuan gave a slight nod, then glanced at the rest. “Everyone can go now.”

Kneeling villagers hurried to kowtow, stammering, “Sending off the immortal!”

Immortal servants appeared and, with casual efficiency, swept up the scorched bodies of the guilty, tossing them outside the village where they faded from existence.

The people around Bai Yuan understood—it was time to leave. They scattered quickly.

The village chief lingered and cautiously asked, “Immortal… the immortal rice…”

His face flushed with shame. He hadn’t believed Bai Yuan before. Now he knew better. Bai Yuan hadn’t warned them for personal gain—but out of care for Zhao Ping’an and Lin Cuiniang.

Bai Yuan didn’t hesitate. “The rice is good for your health. Store it wisely. But know this—if anyone tries to force a sale, the rice’s power will vanish.”

He had a plan.

He would modify the rice and river’s energy so that any attempt to exploit it would trigger an alert. At worst, the energy would withdraw entirely.

This would teach people a crucial lesson:

The divine cannot be desecrated.

The village chief wept with gratitude, but as he tried to kneel, an unseen force held him upright.

Bai Yuan brought up another point: “More outsiders will come here soon. I’ll be taking my parents, Liu Ermei, and her daughter with me. We’re moving out.”

His human language had grown fluent—not just from system lessons, but from the spiritual energy he absorbed.

The village chief bowed deeply. “Understood.”

Bai Yuan’s power could only absorb the emotional energy of a city for now. But he could create small energy clusters to scatter like dandelions—spying, warning, collecting belief and emotion alike.

That was the key to divinity: Never collapse.

This phrase came from the system’s guide to faith. If a god falters, belief collapses.

Bai Yuan took it to heart.

Back in the house, Lin Cuiniang packed in silence. Liu Ermei clutched her sleeve nervously. “Can we really… come with you?”

She felt unworthy. What could she offer?

Lin Cuiniang gently reminded her, “You want your daughter stuck in this place forever?”

Mention of her daughter hardened Liu Ermei’s resolve. She dragged her child to Bai Yuan and knelt. “We pledge our lives. We will never betray you.”

Bai Yuan wanted to stop her—but the system explained that for poor mortals, this was the only way to show devotion.

Lin Cuiniang pulled them up and hugged Zhao Xiaomei. “We’ll be alright now.”

Liu Ermei nodded tearfully.

Zhao Ping’an wiped his brow and asked, “Where to next, Son?”

Bai Yuan thought for a moment.

He still had to locate the so-called “children of fortune” mentioned by the system—the main characters of this world.

He was curious.

“Let’s go to the nearest city.”

After they left the mountain, rumors spread like wildfire. Some people marveled at the immortal once living among them. Others stared in horror at those who had been struck by divine thunder.

Some asked about the demon king. The villagers, now fearless, spoke freely—after all, the immortal clearly had a good relationship with the demon. So the demon must be good.

People listened with astonishment and regret. They lamented not befriending Bai Yuan’s family sooner.

The village chief silenced the murmurs. “The immortal saved us. Don’t be greedy for more.”

Those words struck home.

He continued loudly, “The immortal said—no one may force a trade involving the immortal grain. Or else.”

He emphasized that the rice could be sold, but only if both sides agreed willingly.

This was a warning to all the nearby villages.

Some wealthy buyers still tried to make deals. A few villagers, tempted by high prices, sold a little.

Both sides got what they needed—money, food, and security.

In truth, the grain only had subtle power—it needed to be consumed regularly over months to take full effect. Bai Yuan’s strength wasn’t limitless.

When wealthy merchants and nobles visited Zhaojia Village, they were stunned by the glowing river and the stories they heard.

Many couldn’t believe Bai Yuan had been mistaken for a cursed child—nearly drowned, even—by his own villagers.

Someone asked, “Why didn’t he punish them earlier?”

“Maybe,” someone guessed, “immortals must first endure hardship to understand humanity. Only when the world fell into chaos did he reveal himself to defeat evil.”

It made sense.

Especially since the Holy Emperor was weak, the regent now ruled. People whispered uneasily.

Bai Yuan overheard this through his energy orbs and made a decision:

He would go to the capital.

In the days that followed, more and more people flooded Zhaojiacun—trading, buying, offering to purchase land.

But the villagers refused.

Those who’d wronged Bai Yuan suffered daily thunder strikes and nightmares. No Taoist or exorcist dared intervene. Even if someone wanted to buy their homes, tree spirits sent by the demon king would drive them off.

No one dared provoke the immortal’s friend.

The Zhao family could do nothing but suffer. With no rice to sell, they had no income. Their home was all they had.

Desperation swallowed them whole.

Meanwhile, stories of gods and monsters spread across the land. Some were terrified. Others feared their own rebellious plots might draw divine wrath.

Natural disasters now had a face: evil spirits, awakened by human chaos.

Many tried to find Bai Yuan again, but he was gone.

Now traveling toward the capital, Bai Yuan’s group used energy-crafted carriages and space containers to carry supplies.

Lin Cuiniang was awed. “How are you this amazing?”

Zhao Xiaomei glowed with admiration.

They paused in a nearby city to rest, but Bai Yuan didn’t waste time sightseeing. On the road, he healed the sick, fed the starving, and created fields to stave off famine.

He made no effort to hide his white hair and eyes. At first feared, his kindness and miracles soon earned him worship.

“Thank you, immortal! Thank you!”

The more Bai Yuan saw, the more he realized how cruel the world was to commoners.

And he began to think.

Was there a way to stop this?

He searched the system’s records and formed a plan.

He would become a Divine National Teacher—associating war and rebellion with evil spirits, and virtue with divine favor.

Energy orbs left in various locations would monitor public emotion. Too much negativity, and disasters (or demons) would emerge. If good prevailed, his energy could stabilize weather and nature.

Corrupt officials? He’d bind their seals to divine energy. When people suffered, the seals would trigger divine punishment.

So, he alternated between playing god and monster, striking fear into villains and comfort into the innocent.

His powers expanded.

In the capital, the regent scowled at reports. He didn’t want to believe any of it—gods, monsters, divine punishments.

But if it were true?

Then his ambitions to overthrow the emperor would only lead to more disasters—and even worse, divine retribution.

He refused to accept it.

The immortal had to be fake.

And yet, Bai Yuan was already approaching the city.

The capital trembled with anticipation—and fear.

Would the immortal cleanse the city… or punish it?