It Is Said That I Have Been Crushed By Dimensionality Reduction (Quick Travel) - Chapter 3

Within moments, the Zhao family courtyard filled with curious villagers. As Lin Cuiniang spoke, many began to frown, conflicted. Compared to Madam Zhao—who cried, yelled, and made a scene at every opportunity—Cuiniang’s quiet endurance made her seem far more pitiful.

Everyone in the village had seen how hard Zhao Pingan and Lin Cuiniang had worked over the years, how much they had endured for their sickly son. Some began to feel a prick of guilt.

Her fists clenched tightly, Lin Cuiniang’s voice trembled with rage as she forced the words out: “Yuan wouldn’t go near the lake on his own. He never leaves the yard. How could he have ended up in the water?”

The memory of yesterday came flooding back—coming home from the fields only to find her son missing. She’d searched frantically, near hysterical, until she spotted Brother Lin and a few children running from the nearby path. The moment she saw her nephew’s guilty face, fear slammed into her chest.

Her heart knew the truth, even before she reached the lake. There, she had found her son—barely clinging to life, gripping a reed for dear life. Just a moment later, and she would’ve arrived too late.

That night, Yuan had developed a dangerous fever. His frail body, soaked through in the winter cold, had nearly given out. His breath had stopped once.

But somehow… as if the heavens took pity on them, the boy had pulled through.

Madam Zhao’s face paled at the accusation. Her voice rose in panic. “What nonsense! That cursed child doesn’t know right from wrong—he went to drown himself!”

Lin Cuiniang’s fury boiled over. “Do you dare swear on Brother Lin’s life that he had nothing to do with it? May misfortune strike him down if you lie!”

The moment those words left her mouth, Madam Zhao’s shriek echoed through the yard. “You wench! How dare you curse my grandson!” She lunged forward in a rage.

But Zhao Pingan stepped in between them, his voice low and cold. “So you did know it was Brother Lin.”

His mother froze mid-motion. Her expression faltered.

“You… How dare you speak to your mother like that?” she tried to recover, but the tremble in her voice gave her away.

The crowd was already whispering.

“Could it be true? Did Brother Lin push the child into the lake?”

“I believe it. Look at the second son and his wife—they’ve never lied. And Madam Zhao’s reaction? She didn’t even deny it at first.”

Things were spiraling. Zhao Fu’s face darkened.

“Enough!” he snapped. “Stop making baseless accusations! Brother Lin would never hurt his cousin!”

He was desperate to stop the spread of gossip. If word got out, it could ruin his precious grandson’s future, especially his path to the imperial exams.

But looking at Pingan and Cuiniang now, he knew—he’d lost them. There was no saving the family bond. Worse, if that cursed child survived and lingered around, it could still bring bad luck to Brother Lin.

It would be better, he decided, to give them what they wanted. End this cleanly before more damage was done.

Zhao Fu turned toward the villagers with a long-suffering sigh. “Since my second son insists… we’ll agree to separate.”

Madam Zhao exploded. “What?! Head of the family—how can you—”

“Quiet!” Zhao Fu snapped. “Am I the patriarch or are you?”

She shrank back. She wasn’t foolish enough to argue when Zhao Fu was truly angry. But her eyes burned with resentment as she stared at her second son. She couldn’t believe it. He was her flesh and bl00d. And ever since that cursed child and his outsider wife entered the family, her son had turned against her.

She had sacrificed so much for Brother Lin’s future—was that wrong?

Let them go then. Let them struggle to survive with that cursed brat. When her grandson passed the exams, they’d get nothing.

Inside the small house, the system was fuming.

“These people… they’re the worst,” it muttered.

“The worst?” Bai Yuan asked calmly.

The system explained, “They’re selfish. Cruel. Manipulative.”

Bai Yuan nodded, pressing a hand to his chest. His heart, unfamiliar with such strong emotion, thudded hard with something that felt like rage. The emotions in the air—hatred, grief, humiliation—poured into him, transforming into power.

A faint light flickered in his white eyes. He stepped toward the door.

Meanwhile, Zhao Fu had called for the village chief and elders to bear witness to the separation.

The eldest son’s family, who had been hiding indoors this whole time, finally stepped out, pretending to be surprised. “Father? Mother? What’s going on?”

The crowd rolled their eyes. Who were they fooling?

Someone scoffed, “What, all that noise didn’t wake you up?”

Mrs. Zhao spun around, already on the defensive. “Mind your own business! Worry about your barren daughter-in-law who can’t give you a grandson!”

The insult hit hard. But before a fight could break out, a clear, steady voice rang out.

“That’s enough.”

Everyone fell silent and turned. The village chief and several elders had arrived.

Zhao Fu bowed respectfully. “Second Uncle, please oversee the separation.”

Madam Zhao tried to chime in, but something strange happened—her voice caught in her throat. She coughed, strained, tried again… and still no sound came out.

In the corner of her vision, she saw him. That cursed child, staring out from the doorway, white eyes unblinking.

She panicked. Demon! This child was a demon!

She turned to her eldest son in desperation, slapping his arm and pointing at the boy in terror.

But Zhao Pingshun only frowned. “Mother, quiet down, will you?”

If she hadn’t been so stingy about the medicine, none of this would’ve happened. He didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he knew. They’d driven the second son and his wife too far.

And yet, he conveniently forgot that he and his wife had been the ones mocking the child daily, wishing him dead so there’d be more food and money for Brother Lin.

It was Brother Lin who’d twisted under that pressure, and coaxed other kids into luring Yuan to the lake.

Madam Zhao stood silently now, eyes still burning. But the villagers were all watching Zhao Fu and the chief.

Everyone knew what a family separation meant. But this one felt different—more final. Would the original agreement still hold? Would the second son’s family be truly free?

Pingan and Cuiniang stood quiet. They didn’t want to burn every bridge—they still had to live here. As much as they wanted justice for Yuan, they knew accusing Brother Lin formally would bring ruin. In villages like this, people settled things internally. No one went to the authorities unless they wanted to be ostracized by everyone.

They could not afford to be driven out.

So they swallowed their rage, buried their grief, and prepared for the next battle.

Inside, Bai Yuan examined his palm. A small amount of energy had been used. He didn’t fully grasp human politics, but he could tell—his small action had disrupted the power balance.

He’d silenced Madam Zhao, without a single word.

The system gaped. “Wait—you can already do that?”

Bai Yuan blinked, puzzled. “Is it difficult?”

The system wanted to scream. That level of control wasn’t even possible for most cultivators!

In the courtyard, the village chief banged his cane. “So… the separation is decided?”

Zhao Fu nodded heavily. “I’m still a father. I won’t stand in their way…”

Before he could finish, Lin Cuiniang spoke up sharply. “Back then, you made us promise to hand over every coin we earned, in exchange for protecting Yuan. Now, after what Brother Lin did—”

“Shut your mouth!” Zhao Fu roared. “Pingan! Are you just going to let your wife speak to your parents like this?!”

Pingan’s eyes were bloodshot. He clenched his fists and growled, “At least she didn’t push her own kin into a lake.”

Gasps swept through the crowd.

Zhao Pingshun stammered, “Don’t talk nonsense—my son wouldn’t do such a thing!”

Zhao Fu’s face twisted with rage, but he didn’t press further. “Fine. Let’s focus on the separation.”

Now the villagers were exchanging glances. Brother Lin might really have done it. No one cared about the so-called cursed child—but a six-year-old with murder in his heart?

That was terrifying.

And if it wasn’t just Brother Lin—if other children had helped? The thought chilled them. When they got home, they’d have to warn their own children to steer clear.

Finally, Zhao Fu laid down the terms. “This house stays with us. You’ve brought a curse into this family—it’s drained our luck. We’ll give you ten coins. Take what’s yours and go.”

The crowd stirred again. Ten coins? After years of labor?

Many thought it unfair, but no one dared speak too loudly.

Inside, the system seethed. “This is robbery. He’s using superstition to cheat you out of everything, while still making you responsible for them in old age.”

Bai Yuan absorbed it all. Then he asked, calmly, “Is there a way to break that connection forever?”

He would ensure his parents lived well.

And those who hurt him—none would escape.

The system, pleased, quickly searched its database. “Absolutely. Here’s what we’ll do…”

Outside, Zhao Pingan and Lin Cuiniang were already expecting to be cheated, but ten coins? That wasn’t just unfair—it was cruel.

Then the door creaked open.

Everyone turned.

A thin figure emerged, skin pale like snow, white hair glowing in the sunlight. His milky eyes were calm and cold, like a spirit from a mountain legend.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Lin Cuiniang rushed to him. “Yuan! Why did you come out?!”

Madam Zhao’s panic returned. She tried to yell, but her voice still failed her. She pointed, wide-eyed, trembling.

Bai Yuan sensed her hatred and met her gaze—cold, expressionless.

These humans were as petty as they were predictable.

The villagers stared. This was their first real look at the boy up close.

Then he spoke.

“We don’t want anything.”

His voice was strangely mature—steady, quiet, unwavering.

Before Zhao Fu could reply, the boy continued, repeating what the system had told him:

“But after the separation, I request one thing: a written contract. We will no longer owe you anything. Our ties are severed, for good.”

Gasps echoed once more.

He was only five.

And yet… these weren’t the words of a frightened child.

No one quite knew what to think.

Could it be that this boy—this so-called disaster star—wasn’t cursed?

Was he… something else entirely?