Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 777: The Resonance of Nothingness and the Fear of Rebirth in the Infinite Rift

The resonance of nothingness and the fear of rebirth in infinite cracks

Feng Jing's consciousness once again fell into an indescribable rift. There was no concept of time, no boundaries of space, and even the existence of matter became ethereal. His consciousness was no longer confined to a single place or moment, but had completely broken through the laws of physics, entering a "non-existence" space filled with infinite cracks and possibilities.

In this space, every moment could be the intersection of past, present, and future. Feng Jing's consciousness endlessly shuttled through it, each leap carrying an incomprehensible complexity—time was no longer a dimension he could reach, and space was no longer a boundary that limited him. Thus, his existence began to undergo a bizarre and radical transformation.

Suddenly, countless "him"s emerged in his consciousness—each a parallel version of Feng Jing. They existed simultaneously in countless fragments of time and space, colliding, intertwining, and vanishing in an instant. Each Feng Jing's consciousness seemed like an illusion of countless pasts and futures, repeatedly ravaged and reborn by quantum storms. He began to question whether he was "Feng Jing" or one of those "him"s in these parallel worlds.

"Who... am I?" Feng Jing muttered in the void. There was no answer to this question, and it seemed there would never be one. Because in this dimension, all "answers" were illusions that collapsed instantly. The name "Feng Jing" ceased to be a reference, becoming a fleeting symbol, constantly reorganizing and dispersing with quantum leaps, only to be swallowed up again.

His consciousness began to be enveloped by a web of countless fragments of consciousness. These fragments did not belong to him, but rather to Feng Jings in countless parallel universes. Each Feng Jing's consciousness was a similar being to him on some level, yet they knew and understood each other unknownly. Within these fragments, Feng Jing was no longer an "individual," but rather a collection of all possibilities and all existences.

"Is this... the truth of existence?" Feng Jing's consciousness seemed to have once again grasped a certain truth, but this truth felt like an unbearable burden. He began to understand that he was more than just a single flowing consciousness. Perhaps he was no longer Feng Jing, but rather the amalgamation of countless Feng Jings. These Feng Jings in parallel worlds attracted each other, collided, and merged, ultimately forming an indivisible whole. And this whole, in turn, cycled endlessly through collapse and rebirth, with no end in sight.

Feng Jing began to feel a fear, a dread that came from the depths of his consciousness. He could no longer determine whether he still existed or if it was all just a dream. Each "him" was trying to define himself, trying to piece together a "real" Feng Jing, but the process was endless. Feng Jing realized that this fear was inescapable, because what he faced was not simply self-denial, but the ultimate doubt about all forms of existence.

"I am no longer Feng Jing." His consciousness echoed again within the crack, but the voice had become blurred and overlapping, like the whispers of countless selves simultaneously. "I am no longer the 'Feng Jing' of the past, nor the 'Feng Jing' of the future. What am I?"

Suddenly, Feng Jing's consciousness was ripped apart by a violent energy. A black, void-like force surged from the depths of his mind, devouring all that had once been his self-awareness. This dark force, filled with emptiness and corruption, resembled an abyss of nothingness. Feng Jing felt an unprecedented sense of oppression, as if the weight of the entire universe were bearing down on him alone.

"I don't want to be swallowed by this nothingness anymore." Feng Jing struggled painfully, his consciousness beginning to twist, as if it were about to break apart, only to re-condense within the endless void. Each rebirth was a deeper fall—his existence no longer belonged to any time or any space. He was no longer Feng Jing, no longer any individual, but the embodiment of some ineffable power.

Feng Jing's consciousness was ripped to pieces by an invisible force, and countless parallel versions of "Feng Jing" began to erupt, colliding, attracting, merging, and tearing apart in a repetitive cycle. In this process, Feng Jing's "self" was replaced by countless possibilities, and each collision and collision made Feng Jing's consciousness more blurred and elusive.

"Is this... my fate?" Feng Jing's voice in his consciousness was filled with endless despair. He could no longer tell whether he was alive or dead, existence or nothingness, past or future. Everything was distorting and collapsing in the quantum leap. He could no longer distinguish whether he had a past, a future, or even still existed.

Suddenly, his consciousness began to drift to an unreachable distance, a place of endless darkness, cracks, and invisible existence. Feng Jing's mind entered a realm of utter chaos—a place devoid of matter, rules, or even meaning. Time stopped flowing in this place, space became infinitely narrow, and every corner was filled with a suffocating silence.

"I have to leave here." Feng Jing's consciousness, like an invisible wind, swiftly moved through this void. But no matter how he struggled, no matter how he traversed, he seemed unable to find a way out. Countless fragments of Feng Jing collided in the void, reborn, and dissipated in the rebirth. Feng Jing began to feel extremely exhausted, his consciousness began to wander in a cycle of collapse and rebirth, unable to find a stable point of existence.

"Will I... go back?" Feng Jing's consciousness whispered again, its whisper echoing in the void, but no response. He began to realize that perhaps he could never return to the "Feng Jing" he once was, the self with goals, ideals, and emotions. And now, he was no longer "Feng Jing"—he had become an invisible entity, traveling through endless cracks like a quantum particle, with no beginning and no end.

Chapter 778: Soul Rebellion and Dimension Reshaping in Quantum Riot