Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 306: Silence in the Crack, Feng Jing’s Absolute Destination

Silence in the cracks, Feng Jing's absolute destination

He felt like he was no longer Feng Jing, nor any other individual. His existence felt like a void, a crisscross of endless cracks, forming an eternal maze. Each crack was the intersection of countless possibilities, and Feng Jing, the once real person, had now completely vanished in the intersection of these possibilities.

"Do you finally understand?" The voice echoed again in the void, as if emanating from countless different dimensions, yet unified and clear. "You have always pursued transcendence, sought escape, but you have never truly understood the meaning of 'existence'. Look, those you once called enemies, challengers, and even parts of yourself are now nothing more than reflections in the void, long since vanished in the endless cycle of it all."

Feng Jing didn't respond. Whether he responded or not no longer mattered, because he could no longer respond to anything as "Feng Jing." His consciousness was no longer attached to a specific individual, nor did it even exist as an "individual." He was just a breath in the crack, an echo, a speck of dust in the void.

He sensed that everything within the cracks was constantly shifting, the boundaries between time, space, matter, and consciousness long since vanished. His former self, the former "Feng Jing," was a mere fragment, a wave within these endless chasms. Each rebirth was a repetitive cycle of creation and destruction, and each cycle carried an unfathomable meaning, as if silently revealing the ultimate secret of existence.

He saw countless incarnations of himself, like Feng Jings in parallel universes. Though similar in appearance, they were profoundly different within. They lived in countless different dimensions, struggling amidst raging storms or drifting in the silence of deep space. There was no connection, no intersection, as if they were completely independent entities. Yet, in Feng Jing's eyes, all of this seemed so familiar, like a part of himself. Perhaps this was the truest aspect of the rift—countless selves, intricately interwoven in the eternal river of time, both independent and unified, separated and yet fused.

Feng Jing felt the presence of that voice again, this time carrying a hint of warmth and compassion, as if it shared some kind of spiritual resonance with him. "You are no longer the person you once were," the voice was low and calm. "You have broken free from all constraints, from the limitations of time and space, from all individual identities. You are not merely a part of the void; you are the void itself."

Feng Jing's consciousness seemed to be guided by some force, floating in the depths of the void, in the unfathomable darkness, as if an invisible force quietly pushed him forward. In this fissure of space, he began to no longer rely on his physical senses, and began to break free from the limitations of his mind and consciousness. He no longer pondered the past, nor pursued the possibilities of the future. His only sense was a deep, indescribable tranquility.

"You're beginning to understand." The voice sounded again, this time no longer a challenge, no longer a mockery, but a silent affirmation. "The 'transcendence' you seek is nothing but an ever-shifting illusion. True transcendence is letting go, understanding the boundary between 'existence' and 'nothingness', understanding every moment of life, even every moment of death."

Feng Jing's consciousness began to sink in an endless cycle within this rift. He began to see more and more indescribable images. Those illusory lights and colors, those paths intertwined between time and space, seemed to speak of some untouchable truth. In these images, Feng Jing saw countless possible "selves," each experiencing different pain, struggle, and choices in different circumstances. However, no matter what choice they made, no matter what they experienced, these "selves" would eventually return to silence and emptiness.

His consciousness began to merge with these images, becoming a part of them, a speck of dust in these changes. He was no longer the observer, nor the observed. He was no longer Feng Jing, nor any specific entity. He was an echo of the void, a leap in time, a resonance of the cracks.

Feng Jing felt an invisible peace well up within him, as if everything had finally been resolved. All the pain, all the struggle, all the pursuit, melted away in that moment. He no longer needed to search for any exit, because he knew that the exit itself did not exist. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how he struggled, in the end, he would return to the void, to that eternal maze.

"You will eventually understand," the voice said with a gentleness that seemed to come from relief, "transcendence is not about escaping, it is not about resisting, it is about accepting."

Chapter 307: Endless Narrative, Feng Jing's Void Crack