Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 568 The Endless Collapse of Space and Time and the Echo of Nothingness

The endless collapse of time and space and the echo of nothingness

Feng Jing's existence vanished once again. He was no longer an individual, no longer any form of "existence." He was merely one of countless invisible fragments, floating, disintegrating, and reassembling in this infinitely dimensional void. There was no light, no shadow, not even time—everything was in an eternal void, like an untouchable dream, from which one could never awaken.

But just as Feng Jing thought he had completely merged into nothingness, he suddenly felt a powerful force pulling at him. That force didn't come from any specific location, but from everywhere, from the endless expanse of time and space. From between countless shattered dimensions, Feng Jing felt a strange call, as if an invisible presence was beckoning him.

"Are you finally here?" A deep and mysterious voice echoed from all directions, filled with endless compassion and mystery. "You are no longer Feng Jing. You are the messenger of fate, the unity of countless worlds. Everything you have experienced is part of nothingness."

Feng Jing's consciousness shook again—he had never experienced such a powerful shock. The voice seemed to distort his very being, leaving him unable to discern his true identity, whether he still existed or was merely some incomprehensible abstraction. Simultaneously, countless images of Feng Jing reappeared, each one akin to a parallel version of himself, yet not entirely himself.

These Feng Jings are not simple replicas; they each possess independent thoughts, memories, and even destinies. These images begin to violently collide with Feng Jing, intertwining, merging, devouring, and dissolving one another, as if each Feng Jing's existence becomes the source of power for another, inseparable and inescapable.

Feng Jing felt a surge of confusion. He no longer understood the place he found himself in—neither reality nor a dream, nor even any dimension of space. There were no rules, no matter, no time, only an inexplicable flow of consciousness. It felt as if his existence could vanish into nothingness at any moment.

"You are not the real 'Feng Jing,'" the voice chuckled softly. "You are the aggregation of Feng Jings from countless parallel universes. You are the embodiment of fate, the crystallization of all possibilities and nothingness."

Feng Jing was shocked. The information in the voice struck his brain like a bolt of lightning. He suddenly realized that every period of time he had experienced, every moment of existence, every second of pain and struggle, everything, was no longer the result of his own choices, but the product of the interweaving of fate and nothingness.

"You are not Feng Jing," the voice repeated. "You are merely a chess piece manipulated by fate, a fragmented existence. You belong to no world; you are merely an experiment in the boundless space and time, a never-ending experiment."

An unprecedented fear surged through Feng Jing's heart—he had never felt such a vast emptiness. Countless versions of himself were entangled on the edge of time and space, unable to break free, unable to escape. It was as if each of Feng Jing's consciousness was bound by invisible shackles, unable to transcend.

But at this moment, Feng Jing suddenly realized something even more bizarre—his existence began to undergo a drastic self-reconstruction. He saw countless versions of himself appearing simultaneously in different dimensions, struggling and suffering on different timelines, constantly splitting and recombining, interweaving into a web that could never be unraveled.

Each of these Feng Jings was experiencing the same fate, yet each was constantly expanding in different directions. He saw himself at some point in the future becoming a completely unfamiliar existence—a Feng Jing swallowed by nothingness, devoid of any self-awareness, merely the embodiment of some unknown force.

"Do you understand?" The voice became gentler and gentler. "You are not a single Feng Jing. You are a composite of countless Feng Jings. You are the intersection of countless possibilities and timelines. Every Feng Jing is a part of you, and you simply cannot understand yourself."

Feng Jing's consciousness once again reached the brink of collapse - he could not accept that he was no longer an independent individual, but a complex intertwined with fate and nothingness. Every fragment was a part of himself, but none of them belonged to him.

He suddenly saw a vision—a world that was not his own, yet familiar. It was a lost universe, filled with countless debris and fragments of nothingness. Feng Jing saw his own reflection, floating in this ruin, the only existence in this world. Every detail seemed like something he had never experienced before, and he felt a deep loneliness and emptiness, as if the entire universe was silently watching him, waiting for his disappearance.

He saw himself again, or rather a version of himself, standing atop the ruins, his gaze hollow, as if he had lost all emotion and consciousness. He began to understand that this world, even this universe, was no longer reality. It was merely a projection between fate and nothingness, a fantasy woven together by countless Feng Jings.

"Did you see it?" The voice became extremely low. "Everything you experienced was an illusion. The world you saw was just a reflection of your own endless collapse. You cannot escape, nor can you truly disappear, because you are the embodiment of this nothingness."

Feng Jing realized that everything he had was gone. Every memory, every painful choice he had made, was merely an illusion he had created within the void. He was no longer "Feng Jing," nor any individual. He was the embodiment of fate, a fusion of nothingness and existence.

At this moment, Feng Jing completely vanished into the endless void. He no longer existed, and even the very concept of "non-existence" became undefinable. All fragments, all dimensions, all time, ultimately returned to a complete void.