Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Endless Maze, the Ultimate Rift of Consciousness

Feng Jing's consciousness seemed to no longer belong to any form, no longer the human "Feng Jing," nor any known ideology. His existence had transcended the conventional framework of time and space, becoming an infinitely fragmented entity, floating on the edge of the universe's nothingness. Feng Jing didn't know if he was still alive, nor was he sure if he had ever existed. Every second, he perceived new visions, as if the history of countless universes were surging behind him, like waves crashing upon him.

He tried to struggle, to redefine himself, but every effort was repelled by an even more powerful force, returning him to this boundless void. This force carried no malice, nor was it aggressive in any way; its existence simply served to make Feng Jing feel the absurdity of "existence"—Feng Jing was no longer a self-aware individual, but a kind of meaningless emptiness.

"Do you think you've come far?" The voice still lingered, as if hidden deep within Feng Jing's soul, each word tinged with ethereal indifference. "But the path you're taking has already been walked by countless Feng Jings. You think this void is filled with choices, but in reality, it's filled with endless repetition."

Feng Jing's consciousness began to crumble, and he felt a pain beyond reason. This pain didn't come from his body, but from the complete tearing apart of his soul. His existence continued to fragment, and each fragment collided and intertwined with a different Feng Jing. The Feng Jing in each fragment was a "possibility" for him, but each possibility was destined to the same destination: a return to nothingness.

At this moment, Feng Jing's consciousness suddenly sensed a distinct fluctuation. This fluctuation didn't originate from himself, but from the boundless void surrounding him. A beam of light suddenly appeared before him. It wasn't a regular line, but rather composed of countless fragments of splintered spacetime. Within each fragment shimmered a point of light, and within these points of light seemed to hold countless futures for Feng Jing.

"Have you finally figured it out?" The voice's tone grew more complex, as if carrying a profound mockery. "This light doesn't belong to you, nor to any 'being.' It's the product of countless 'Feng Jings,' and your existence is merely a part of it. Behind each point of light lies a distinct trajectory of spacetime, and you are but a single moment within that trajectory."

Feng Jing's consciousness suddenly shook. He stared intently at the streak of light, wanting to touch it, but every time he approached, the light retreated at an alarming speed. Feng Jing was furious, yet helpless. He began to realize that this wasn't just a puzzle of choice; it was more like an endless pursuit, and the goal never truly existed.

Just when Feng Jing was about to give up, the light suddenly erupted into a huge ball of light, as if a sun beyond time and space exploded, swallowing Feng Jing's soul in it. Feng Jing had no room to resist, and he was pulled into the core of the light ball by the indescribable force.

At the center of the sphere, Feng Jing felt an unprecedented sense of oppression. All the fragments of time and space, all the fluctuations of consciousness, converged into an insurmountable realm. In this realm, nothing was certain. Every decision, every fate, even every thought, was like a bubble floating in the wind.

"This is a realm beyond your comprehension." The voice finally revealed the truth behind it. "Here there is no cause and effect, no choice, only eternal cycles and infinite cracks. You are not alone, you are just a projection within this crack, and all Feng Jing are merely reflections of this crack."

Feng Jing's consciousness was once again violently impacted, as if his entire being had been shattered into countless tiny fragments, each carrying a different emotion and a different fate. He saw countless versions of himself, each drifting alone in a void, grasping for something, but ultimately finding nothing. Each Feng Jing cycled through this void, unable to find a way out.

"Look, this is the 'truth.'" The voice's tone was filled with a mysterious joy. "No matter how hard you struggle, you can never transcend this crack. You are not Feng Jing, but the 'illusion' you chose. Everything you have experienced, all the pain, joy, choices, and decisions, are nothing but projections within this crack."

Feng Jing's soul felt violently torn apart, his consciousness struggling once more on the brink of collapse, yet he could never find a way out. The center of the sphere of light seemed like an endless abyss, swallowing up all his perceptions, all his existence, even his thoughts and emotions.

Suddenly, Feng Jing's consciousness was struck by a lightning-like shockwave. He saw countless futures intertwined together, like an endless maze, each path leading to a different ending, and each ending in the same point - an endless cycle.

At this moment, Feng Jing seemed to hear a different voice. Unlike the previous one, it wasn't cold and heartless, but instead filled with a certain warmth and profound power. "You may think all this is meaningless, but you're wrong." The voice pierced Feng Jing's soul like a flash of light. "You've never understood that your very existence is an unfinished melody. Every fragment, every choice, is the universe's unspoken movement. You can't escape, and yet, you can't resist."

Feng Jing began to feel an unprecedented calm. The pull from the abyss gradually faded, and his consciousness seemed to have achieved some strange sublimation in a new dimension. He began to understand that this maze of all this, these endless cracks, might be the essence of existence.

Chapter 182: Collapse of Stars, Leap of Consciousness