Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 258: Reflection of Time, the Core of the Universe in Fragments

Reflection of time, the core of the universe in fragments

Feng Jing's consciousness passed through the cracks, entering a realm that defies any existing language. This place belonged to neither time nor space. It had no boundaries or direction. Even the concepts of "existence" and "non-existence" lost their meaning. Feng Jing's consciousness seemed to float in a vast bubble of space-time, filled with ever-expanding ripples, nested within these ripples were countless moments and fragments of his past experiences.

Yet these moments aren't his own memories of the past. They're a collection of countless moments from Feng Jing's life in countless parallel worlds, interwoven into an indescribable web, each thread constantly stretching, twisting, and overlapping, as if attempting to construct a "self" that encompasses all of Feng Jing.

"You have entered the true core." A cold voice, as if coming from a distant time and space, said, "This place has no past, no future, only an endless 'present'."

Feng Jing's consciousness was violently shaken, as if being torn apart by countless invisible tentacles. Every time he tried to comprehend everything here, to understand this place without the boundaries of time and space, his mind would collapse again and again, and the fragments of memory would constantly shift and reorganize in the void, becoming increasingly blurred.

"What is this place? Why am I here?" Feng Jing asked in a hoarse and confused voice.

"This is a place you've never seen before." The voice responded coldly, "This is a reflection of time, a crack in space. The world you know is nothing but an illusion, a giant projection. All reality, all rules, all reason are reflections reflected in the void. And you, Feng Jing, are the source of that reflection."

Feng Jing's consciousness expanded again, and he felt as if he had entered an endless maze of mirrors. Each mirror reflected a different Feng Jing, a Feng Jing living in a different dimension. Each Feng Jing's face was filled with confusion and pain, as if asking, "Is this me? Is this the path I once walked?"

However, these Feng Jings are not the real "him." They are projections of Feng Jings in countless parallel worlds, all the versions of himself he never chose, never realized. All of this is controlled by an invisible force.

"Why do you ask 'Is this me?'?" The voice suddenly became playful. "You have never truly been 'you'. You were never 'you' from the beginning. You are just a parameter in a program, a system that is constantly restarting, and can never escape this endless cycle."

Feng Jing's consciousness was swirling violently, and he couldn't help but think of his past self. The Feng Jing who had once had goals, dreams, and the courage to defy fate. But what had become of that Feng Jing now? He could no longer find any trace of himself. All his memories and emotions had become like mist, dispersing with the wind.

"I... am not me?" Feng Jing murmured softly. He felt as if he was bound by an inescapable shackle, unable to escape this illusory game. "Then who am I?"

"You?" There was a hint of cold laughter in his voice. "You have never been. You are just a speck of dust in the universe, a shadow interwoven from countless parallel worlds. You have no essence, you have no self, you are just a dislocation between time and space, a reflection of a lightning bolt."

Feng Jing began to feel completely lost, his consciousness constantly expanding and contracting in this dimensionless world. He felt himself transform into air, light, and countless other forms of matter, but behind each form, there was no trace of his existence.

He became increasingly uncertain, no longer even knowing if he even had the concept of "existence." Whenever he tried to find his past self, the Feng Jing who had experienced pain, laughter, goals, and pursuits, that "self" would instantly disappear, as if it had never existed.

"You cannot escape." The voice sounded again, announcing something fatalistic. "All your struggles, all your thoughts, even the 'I' and 'myself' you call them, are merely part of this infinite game. You never made a choice; your very existence is an illusion."

Feng Jing's consciousness continued to fragment. He felt as if he had become a collection of countless souls, each devouring the other, yet unable to completely disappear. Countless Feng Jings alternated in his consciousness, each struggling desperately to escape this endless void.

"Then what should I do?" Feng Jing finally couldn't help asking, his voice trembling and filled with despair, "Can I escape from this?"

"Escape?" the voice sneered. "How do you escape? What are you trying to escape? You want to escape your own 'fate,' but fate is nothing more than an impenetrable web, tightly entangling you. You may escape your own fleeting self, but you can never escape the trap of this universe."

Feng Jing felt an intense sense of weightlessness, as if everything was slipping away from him. His consciousness was being pulled by an invisible force into an endless abyss, devoid of light, sound, only silence and emptiness. Every time he thought he had reached the "end," he discovered it was only a deeper chasm, a more absurd trap.

"I... don't want this." Feng Jing's voice was filled with despair that was almost collapsing. "I don't want to go on like this!"

"You've never 'thought,'" the voice grew increasingly distant. "You're just a line of code in a program. All your 'thoughts,' all your 'wishes,' are part of this fictional world. You can't change anything because you don't have any essence."

Feng Jing's consciousness gradually lost itself in this empty universe. He began to feel himself becoming increasingly distant, as if he were gradually dissipating into endless darkness. And just when he thought he had completely vanished, a brighter light suddenly shone from the endless darkness, enveloping Feng Jing's fragments and expanding in an even more outrageous, unimaginable direction.