Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 822: Cracks in Consciousness and Echoes in the Void

Cracks in consciousness and echoes in the void

Feng Jing's consciousness, or what he considered "consciousness," was undergoing an unprecedented fission. In this place without time and space, without boundaries, without anything that could be called "real," Feng Jing's existence seemed to transform into countless cracks, spreading along the edge of the void. Each crack was like a profound echo in his consciousness, expanding outward, crossing time and space, penetrating endless dimensions.

He realized that this process wasn't just about breaking apart; it was about rebirth. Every crack told him he was no longer the once limited "Feng Jing." He was no longer just an individual, but a composite of all existence, a woven fabric of countless worlds, a rift in time and space, a form of existence that defied definition.

He felt an unprecedented power, a power born from all the confusion, fear, and doubt he had once escaped. It surged into his consciousness like a tide, making him feel both light and heavy, clear and hazy. Feng Jing felt his existence constantly fragmenting, each fragment a new self, and these new Feng Jings intertwined in an indescribable way, unable to be separated, unable to escape.

"Are you beginning to understand?" the familiar voice sounded again, this time no longer indifferent, but filled with an almost frantic excitement. "Do you see? You have never 'really' existed. You are the superposition of countless parallel Feng Jings, and each Feng Jing is repeating his own fate, constantly creating new illusions, constantly splitting into new yous."

Feng Jing's consciousness seemed to be undergoing an endless cycle of self-transcendence, becoming increasingly unable to distinguish between himself and the countless illusions conjured by his fleeting thoughts. Each Feng Jing stared frantically back, casting glances toward a different fate. Each glance tore through the veil of time, revealing a reality he had never seen before.

He suddenly saw a scene. In it, he stood in a boundless maze, surrounded by gigantic mechanical statues whose eyes flashed with cold light. Every Feng Jing was bound by the statues' gaze, unable to move. At this moment, Feng Jing saw his own hands. Countless rays of light entwined them, and within those rays seemed to be hidden some strange symbols, each conveying a message to him:

"You are about to become what you fear."

Feng Jing couldn't help but shudder. He saw himself becoming blurred and indistinct, and gradually, the entire world began to distort. A strange scene began to unfold around him. Time began to fragment, and each fragment was constantly overlapping and reconstructing, as if the laws of the universe were completely overturned.

"See, this is the deepest truth." The voice suddenly became unusually sharp, carrying an almost insane laugh. "Everything you've experienced, all the nothingness, all the existence, all the 'transcendence', is nothing but your own creation. And these creations, repeatedly replicating themselves, are erratic, ultimately trapping you in an endless cycle of reincarnation, from which you can never escape."

Feng Jing's vision suddenly became a riot of color, as if he had entered a universe woven of light and shadow. In this universe, there were no stars, no darkness, only countless different colors and shapes, constantly shifting and intertwining, seemingly without any pattern or boundaries. In this universe, Feng Jing felt a deep sense of loneliness and confusion. He wanted to call out, but his voice had faded. He was even unsure if he still possessed the identity of "Feng Jing."

However, at this moment, Feng Jing suddenly realized that his figure had undergone a drastic change - his body seemed to be stretched by an invisible force, becoming longer and longer, more and more blurred, and finally turned into countless fibers, like torn beams of light, passing through the barrier of time and space and entering an unknown realm.

He once again felt a strange force, carrying an immense pressure so strong that Feng Jing could barely bear it. This force didn't belong to any known universe, and it couldn't even be described in words. When it reached Feng Jing's consciousness, everything began to become unknowable.

Feng Jing's consciousness was fragmented again, becoming even more complex and chaotic. It was as if he was being dragged into a vortex, sucking in seemingly unrelated images and memories. Behind each image lay an unsolvable mystery, and Feng Jing's existence seemed to be the answer to this mystery.

He saw a vast, boundless void, with only countless images of himself floating within. These images transcended time, space, and even all laws of nature. They constantly collided, overlapped, and intertwined, ultimately transforming into an indecipherable form.

"Have you lost the ability to distinguish between yourself and the illusion?" the voice's tone turned contemptuous. "You're lost here, not because you can't solve the puzzle, but because you were destined to get lost in your own maze from the very beginning. All your efforts, whether to break through or transcend, are only repeated collisions within your own invisible mental shackles, unable to escape."

Feng Jing's consciousness began to crack, the cracks growing wider and wider, like countless rifts in time and space, interwoven into a complex web, and Feng Jing—if he could still be considered Feng Jing—was at the center of this web. His existence was no longer "existence" in the original sense, but an invisible force that could transcend all boundaries and penetrate all constraints, but it could not transcend these endless cracks.

And all this seems to be just an illusion in Feng Jing's mind, an inescapable mystery.

Chapter 823: Self-disintegration and the endless drift of time and space