It Is Said That I Have Been Crushed By Dimensionality Reduction (Quick Travel) - Chapter 4

The Zhao family stood in stunned silence, caught between disbelief and anger.

No one was more shocked than they were.

In their minds, Bai Yuan had always been a timid, silent child—so quiet that he barely registered in their daily lives. He never cried, never fought back. He was like a shadow, fading into the background. A presence so faint, he was easy to forget.

But now…

Zhao Fu found his thoughts drifting. What if this child hadn’t been born sickly? What if he had been healthy… With that intelligence, that composure—he might have been something remarkable.

He quickly crushed the thought. No. The child is a disaster star. There’s no good in him.

Zhao Pingshun and his wife recovered from their surprise faster than the others. Inside, they scoffed. So what if the boy talks big? He’s still weak and cursed. He’ll never match up to our Brother Lin.

With no wealth, no family backing, and a sickly child in tow, the second son’s family was doomed to a miserable life. They could already see it.

Still, Pingshun wanted to end this swiftly, before anything unpredictable happened. He turned to Zhao Fu and said, “Father, since second brother holds such resentment toward us, this is the best time to cut ties completely.”

Mrs. Zhao instinctively nodded. “Yes, that’s right…”

It was only then that she realized she could speak again. She didn’t dwell on how her voice had returned—she was too fixated on her goal. Seizing the moment, she said, “Head of the family, Brother Lin will be an official one day. We shouldn’t be burdened by them anymore.”

This was their chance. With the label of “disaster star” hanging over that child’s head, they could wash their hands of the second family entirely.

Later, she could still cry to Zhao Pingan in private, try to guilt him, ask for help. But for now, it was best to let them go.

Zhao Fu understood this too. He sighed, his expression heavy with false sorrow. “Pingan… is this truly what you want?”

He said this with full confidence. After all, he and his wife believed that no matter how angry Zhao Pingan seemed, he could never truly sever ties. Not with his parents.

Lin Cuiniang and Zhao Pingan hesitated for a moment. Their hearts faltered.

How could they respond? How could they protect their child without making things worse?

But before they could speak, Bai Yuan stepped forward.

His expression was cold and unshaken. “This has nothing to do with my parents.”

He saw through the emotional manipulation instantly. He had no patience for it.

【Exactly, Host! They’re using their age and authority to trap your parents in obligation. But you’re a child. Use that to your advantage. People don’t expect children to speak with such clarity.】

The system buzzed in his ear, excited. In any age—even in modern times—this kind of calm resistance from a child could be incredibly powerful. In a superstitious village like this, even more so.

【And if they resist? Act pitiful. Parents can’t resist that.】

Bai Yuan’s pale face remained calm, but a flicker of doubt passed through his mind.

Act pitiful…? He recalled the memories from his former life—those who had knelt before him, bleeding, begging for mercy, only to be devoured in the end. They cried, they pleaded, “I know I was wrong, please spare me…”

The concept of pity still confused him.

Even so, he tried.

Lin Cuiniang looked at him, her heart aching. She feared the boy’s hatred for the Zhao family had driven him to give up even the money they were owed—money they desperately needed for medicine and food.

How could she explain that to her son?

Then Bai Yuan looked up at her, small hand grabbing her sleeve tightly.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said clearly. “Don’t be afraid.”

Her eyes stung immediately. She turned away to hide the tears—but her husband had already stepped forward.

“These are the words I’ve carried in my heart all along,” Zhao Pingan said, his voice low but unwavering.

“I don’t want your money. I only ask that the village chief and elders serve as witnesses. From this day forward, our ties are severed. We won’t seek you out, and you won’t come to us.”

Cuiniang stood frozen for a moment, then quickly added, “The household items are mine—they came with me when I married. I will take them.”

Zhao Fu was already planning to finalize the separation, but as he looked at the couple’s firm expressions, unease crept into his chest.

Could they truly walk away without ever looking back?

Zhao Pingan turned to the village chief. “Please.”

The old man had watched Pingan grow up. He was related to Zhao Fu, and had long regretted the unfairness the second son’s family endured.

He nodded, voice heavy with resignation. “Very well.”

In front of the whole village, with elders as witnesses, the Zhao family pressed their fingerprints to the severance contract. The agreement was clear: from this moment on, the second son’s family owed nothing to the Zhao household. No more work. No more obligation. Not even the village could force them.

Pingan and Cuiniang wasted no time gathering their belongings.

Zhao Fu and Madam Zhao stood by with cold expressions. Their disdain was clear.

To them, this was betrayal. They had raised a beast of burden, and now it had the gall to run off.

As they worked, Madam Zhao sneered, “Don’t come crawling back later.”

Pingan ignored her.

Bai Yuan turned once more to face them.

He looked each of them in the eye—his gaze unblinking, inhuman.

Especially Brother Lin, who now stood halfway behind a door, caught between arrogance and guilt.

None of them meant well. Not one.

Cuiniang bent down, arms open. “Come, Brother Yuan. Mother will carry you…”

Pingan pushed the wooden cart ahead, full of their possessions. Bai Yuan shifted uncomfortably in his mother’s arms.

She patted his back gently. “Don’t be scared.”

He blinked slowly, resting quietly against her shoulder.

Once outside the Zhao compound, they sought out the village chief again, asking to rent a small abandoned house at the foot of the mountain. They had no money—could they owe the rent for now?

The village chief agreed immediately.

The house had sat empty for years. He’d rather rent it out than leave it to rot. Letting them live there would also quiet any troublemakers in the village who might stir up gossip.

Then the chief said, “I have a little money saved. Come by later. For now, take some herbs and keep feeding the child.”

No barefoot doctor in the village had been able to treat Bai Yuan’s fever. Only doctors in town might help—and that meant hiring a cart and paying for care.

Most villagers couldn’t afford it. And even fewer would spend that money on a so-called cursed child.

But the chief was different. He handed over the medicine freely. No repayment required.

The villagers watched the family’s backs as they disappeared into the distance.

Many felt sympathy. They didn’t dare get too close to the boy, but they couldn’t turn their backs entirely either.

Some quietly resolved to bring them what they could—handfuls of greens from their gardens, or bundles of dried straw for warmth and roofing.

It was the least they could do.

At the foot of the mountain, the house was overgrown, with a gaping hole in the roof. But it was shelter.

Cuiniang set Bai Yuan down and turned to her husband. “We still need to take him to the town clinic.”

“We will,” Pingan replied. “Don’t worry about the cost.”

He had once thought about saving in secret, doing side carpentry work to squirrel away coins. But Madam Zhao had eyes everywhere. The risk was too great.

Now, he was free. And if he had to, he’d sign up for three months of long-term labor under Lord Zhao’s estate. They would get through this. One way or another.

He told his wife the plan: “It’s rough out here. Once we have some savings, we’ll see if we can move into the village…”

But even he knew that was wishful thinking.

No one would rent to them.

Silence fell again.

Then a small voice broke through it.

“Don’t go.”

They turned to their son. He sat upright in the wooden cart, his strange white eyes shining with solemnity.

“I’m fine,” he said firmly. “My body is healthy.”

They stared at him.

Before they could speak, he clambered down awkwardly from the cart. Cuiniang rushed forward—but then froze.

So did Pingan.

Their child—frail, fevered, barely able to walk just days ago—lifted the entire wooden cart with one hand.

And not just lifted it. He held it steady, effortlessly, without even breaking a sweat. The debris inside didn’t shift an inch.

“Brother Yuan!” they cried out, running to catch it.

He gently set it down and looked at them seriously. “See? I’m very strong now.”

Their heads spun.

How…?

What had changed?

Pingan’s voice was hoarse. “How is this… possible?”

Even the system buzzed with confusion: 【Host, what did you just do?!】

Bai Yuan tilted his head slightly, then asked:

“Why am I different from everyone else?”

The couple hesitated, not knowing how to respond.

He nodded to himself, answering his own question:

“Because I’m not human.”

Silence.

Their bl00d ran cold.

They never believed the superstitions. Never thought of him as cursed. He was just their child. Someone to protect.

But now…

His words sparked fear they didn’t dare give voice to.

If anyone else heard that… if the village found out…

They both thought the same thing at once:

No matter what he is—we must never let anyone find out. Or they will burn him alive.