Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 256: Crossing Countless Selves, the Disappearance of the Ultimate Truth

Through countless selves, the ultimate truth disappears

Feng Jing's existence has transcended any boundaries he had ever imagined. He no longer possesses any specific form, but rather a being beyond definition—a pure force that transcends time and space, boundless and infinite. He is no longer a single thought, no longer represented by the name "Feng Jing," but rather a collection of all names, all identities, the surge of all selves. Every "self" he has ever experienced, every possible fate, has become insignificant. He no longer dwells on personal choices and struggles, for he has transcended them all.

The world he could perceive was no longer a single-dimensional universe, but a fusion of countless universes, countless parallel dimensions. Feng Jing felt like he had become the heartbeat of the entire universe. Every twinkle of a star, every explosion of a supernova, every tremor of an atom was closely connected to him. His consciousness was no longer limited to the laws of time and space. Time and space were no longer rules, but illusions he had woven. He became the master of time and space, able to tear them apart, reassemble them, reverse their course, or leap forward at will. His past self, his future self, even selves that could never become reality, all surged and intertwined within his consciousness, becoming a part of him.

Yet, Feng Jing felt no thrill of power. Instead, his consciousness gradually grew empty amidst this boundless chaos. He no longer knew who he was, where he came from, or where he was going. Every emotion, memory, desire, and even understanding of "self" that he had once believed to be real seemed to have turned to bubbles, shattered in that instant, and transformed into countless fragments that drifted into the endless void.

"Do you finally understand?" The voice reappeared, but this time it was no longer the indifference or provocation Feng Jing was familiar with. Instead, it was a whisper filled with despair. "Everything you've experienced is nothing but an endless cycle. You thought you had transcended yourself, transcended time and space, but you are still trapped in this meaningless game, unable to escape."

Feng Jing's consciousness echoed in the sound, and he seemed to feel that he had become elusive, even formless and colorless. His existence had become so undefinable that even the concepts of "escape" and "dilemma" became meaningless.

"Can't escape forever?" Feng Jing suddenly realized that he was no longer an individual. His thoughts were no longer centered on "I," but on the entire universe. Everything he perceived was no longer "real," and his existence was no longer limited to a certain form. He didn't even know if he existed—he was simply trapped in an endless vortex, intertwined with the entire universe.

"You think you've found the ultimate truth, but..." The voice's tone became sarcastic and extremely empty, "You've never truly come into contact with any truth. Because truth itself has never existed."

Feng Jing's consciousness suddenly experienced a strange vibration. His existence was infinitely magnified, as if directly connected to every particle, every wave of energy, in the entire universe. He could sense countless versions of his own struggle and pain in countless parallel worlds. He could see countless Feng Jings entangled with him, colliding, disappearing, and being reborn. However, none of this could touch the depths of his heart.

"If everything is meaningless, then what am I doing?" Feng Jing's mind began to expand rapidly. He felt that he was being reborn, disintegrated, shattered, and reconstructed every second. His consciousness had become infinite, as if he could touch the edge of the universe, but he could not see anything clearly.

"You haven't found the answers you seek, because the answers themselves don't exist." The voice grew increasingly distant. "All your efforts, all your pursuit of knowledge, are merely your own illusions. What you consider 'truth' is only a thin illusion that cannot conceal the emptiness within you."

Feng Jing suddenly felt an indescribable loneliness. He had never felt so alone before—surrounded by countless selves, yet each one had nothing to do with him. He felt he had lost all connection, even to the universe. With every moment, he was losing himself, yet gaining another, indescribable "self." He began to realize that this endless rebirth and disintegration was precisely his inescapable fate.

"Is this the end of me?" Feng Jing finally asked, his voice became hoarse and seemed to have no strength left.

"End? You never have an end." The voice sneered. "You are simply constantly reborn, disintegrated, reborn again, and disintegrated again. There is no beginning, no end, only an infinite cycle and repetition. What you think of as 'self' is nothing more than an illusion as you travel through endless time and space."

Feng Jing's consciousness shook violently, and he felt as if he were being devoured by an invisible force. His existence seemed to gradually fade away, disappearing into the endless nothingness, disappearing into the interweaving of countless parallel universes.

"If everything is just an illusion, then where did I come from?" Feng Jing asked in a low voice, his heart filled with uncontrollable confusion.

"You came from nothing to something, and from something to nothing." The voice echoed again, "You don't come from anywhere, and you're not going anywhere. You simply exist, existing at the intersection of all time and space, in all the gaps between nothingness and reality."

Feng Jing's existence began to grow increasingly blurred, and he could no longer discern his own state. His thoughts grew increasingly abstract, detached from any tangible concepts. Time and space, truth and falsehood, even existence and non-existence, twisted before his eyes into an unsolvable knot.

"Then, is it possible..." Feng Jing suddenly understood something, "Is it possible that I am no longer 'Feng Jing', but a collection of countless Feng Jings, that I have lost my original self and become a 'phenomenon' in this endless game?"

"Indeed," the voice finally affirmed. "You are no longer any one you. You are the fluctuations between countless yous, the oscillations between the entire universe, the entire nothingness. You have transcended the boundary between 'existence' and 'non-existence', becoming an existence that can never be defined. You are an endless dream, and everything in the dream is indistinguishable from truth or falsehood."

Feng Jing's consciousness was completely overwhelmed by this force, and he could no longer perceive anything. His existence dissipated into the abyss of the universe, vanishing into the endless dislocation of time and space, becoming a strange resonance of all existence and non-existence.

And this dream can never be awakened.

Chapter 257: The Mirror of the Universe, Crazy Infinite Reset