Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 177 Lost Boundaries, Fragments of Belonging

Lost boundaries, fragments of belonging

Feng Jing's consciousness continued to drift in the endless void, as if being pulled by an invisible force, unable to break free. Every fragment of the universe flickered before his eyes, each fragment like a part of his soul. He tried to touch these fragments, but found them still out of reach, as if a barrier separated him from the infinite void.

He felt his consciousness gradually blurring, unable to discern the boundaries between himself and his surroundings. Every fragment, every thread, seemed to envelop him, making it impossible to discern which existence he belonged to. Feng Jing tried to focus his thoughts, searching for that one thing that belonged to him, that one clue that could lead him back to his true identity. However, all his efforts were lost in an endless void, his consciousness swallowed by a vast vortex, unable to escape.

"Do you finally understand?" the voice sounded again, with a seemingly indifferent yet profound sneer. "You have never truly possessed a 'self.' You are merely a fleeting image among countless possibilities, an illusion woven from endless choices."

Feng Jing's consciousness fluctuated violently, as if propelled by an inexplicable force. His soul seemed to be engaging in a dialogue with the entire universe, yet no answer reached him. He felt like a swaying blade of grass, swaying in the wind, unable to find his roots. No matter how hard he tried to find his place, all the nothingness and fragments offered no response.

"I..." Feng Jing murmured softly, his voice sounding extremely weak, as if he had lost control of his language. "Who am I?"

This question, like a mystery, lingered in Feng Jing's mind. Every time he tried to find the answer, the surrounding void swallowed everything like a tide, leaving no trace. He didn't know where he came from, nor where he was going. All he knew was that he didn't belong to any specific time or space; he was simply a being floating in an endless illusion.

"It's too late for you to ask this question," the voice remained cold. "All the answers have long been forgotten, long since erased. You are but a speck of dust in the universe, a fleeting flash in a meaningless storm. All 'self' is but a fragile illusion, destined to vanish in the endless space and time."

Feng Jing closed his eyes, feeling an indescribable pressure enveloping his soul. The debris around him began to spin ever faster, and the distortion of time and space made him feel an unprecedented dizziness. It was as if his body no longer existed, leaving only his formless consciousness drifting through this chaotic universe.

Yet, at that moment, his consciousness suddenly froze, as if he had crossed a boundary and entered a completely different realm. This space was filled with an indescribable tranquility, devoid of any fragmentation or interweaving of time and space, only a silent vastness. Feng Jing opened his eyes, and he felt his existence become clear in this moment. He felt as if he had found some connection, a long-lost sense of belonging.

"Where is this?" Feng Jing couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

"This is the edge of existence," the voice sounded again, tinged with a hint of deep sadness. "You have finally arrived here, which means you have passed through all the fog and transcended all illusions. Here there is no choice, no fate, only pure existence."

Feng Jing's heartbeat quickened. He felt as if he had found some unspeakable truth at this moment. His consciousness began to resonate strangely with the surrounding space, and the once-fragmented fragments of time and space slowly merged into a single, coherent picture. In this picture, he saw countless versions of himself—countless Feng Jings, each experiencing a different fate in different time and space.

He saw a Feng Jing walking alone in the ruins, holding a broken sword in his hand, his eyes full of loneliness and stubbornness; he saw another Feng Jing standing under the endless starry sky, surrounded by countless lives, his face full of tenderness and love; there was another Feng Jing, standing in front of a huge throne with a sneer on his face, looking down at countless subjects, as if he had forgotten his original intention.

These images of Feng Jing appear alternately, each possessing its own life and consciousness, as if he were once the master of these destinies. Feng Jing feels a deep, inexpressible emotion, complex and inextricable. Each image represents a possibility, and each Feng Jing seems inextricably linked to him.

"Are these my 'possibilities'?" Feng Jing asked in a low voice, his eyes full of confusion.

"Yes," the voice replied softly, "These Feng Jings are not your 'past', nor are they your 'future'. They are simply countless alternating images in the universe, each representing a choice, a different possibility. You are merely a part of these possibilities, and each Feng Jing is what you 'might' have become."

Feng Jing's consciousness was shaken violently, as if all his understanding and cognition were struck by the truth of this moment. He was no longer an independent existence, but a part of all possibilities. Every Feng Jing was reincarnated in a certain time and space, alternately appearing and disappearing, without end.

"Then... what about my 'self'?" Feng Jing's voice was filled with despair. "How can I find my true 'self'?"

"The 'self' has never existed." The voice's tone grew deeper. "Every 'self' you perceive is merely the superposition of countless images. What you once thought of as 'choice' is nothing more than an unstoppable performance in the universe. You are merely an actor, a role that can be replaced at any time."

Feng Jing's heart felt as if torn apart by a tremendous force, his consciousness seemingly shattered by these words. Countless images of Feng Jing began to vanish, and fragments of time and space slowly crumbled. Everything seemed to become blurred. His consciousness drifted once more, no longer belonging to any specific entity.

However, at this moment, a faint light shone from afar. Feng Jing's consciousness was drawn to this light, as if he had found some kind of guidance. He began to move towards it. Although his heart was filled with doubts and confusion, the warmth brought by the light made him no longer feel lonely.

“Perhaps…” Feng Jing muttered to himself, “Perhaps, only by transcending these illusions can I find my true self.”

He didn't know what lay ahead, nor where he would ultimately end up, but he knew that this journey of wandering would eventually lead to some kind of destination. Whatever that destination was, Feng Jing had decided to pursue it—to find a place that truly belonged to him.

Chapter 178: The Tide of Consciousness, the Shattering of the Universe