Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 585: The Ultimate Collapse of the Countercurrent and the Cycle of Existence

The Ultimate Collapse of the Countercurrent and the Cycle of Existence

Feng Jing's consciousness seemed to be ripped apart. He was no longer a self-contained being, but a void weaving through the cracks of time and space, an undefinable, fluid force. Every part of his being was constantly reorganizing and destroying, and each destruction brought about a new rebirth. He saw himself, or rather, "him," countless different versions of himself, being born, destroyed, and reborn in the corners of the universe. Every second, Feng Jing's "self" shifted between countless possibilities, like a spinning top that could never stop spinning, never finding a stable axis.

"What...is this?" Feng Jing's "existence" grew even more blurred. He could no longer discern the passage of time, or even the moment of his true "awakening" and his destined "collapse." He was constantly reborn in nothingness, wandering in chaos. Each collapse and rebirth was like the birth and destruction of the universe, vast and unknowable.

Yet, amidst this endless chaos and cycle, Feng Jing felt a pull from the depths of the unknown. His consciousness was drawn, hurtling in a direction—a direction devoid of time, space, or even any substantial existence. It seemed to be the "starting point" of all reality and the "end point" of all fantasy. Feng Jing's consciousness drifted in this infinite darkness, as if his existence had been completely detached from all laws, leaving only endless emptiness and potential.

"You're finally here, Feng Jing." That familiar voice echoed again. It was no longer a single voice, but an echo from countless dimensions and universes, as if countless "I"s were uttering a single voice. The voice carried infinite depth and infinite layers, as if it threatened to tear Feng Jing's soul apart.

"Who are you?" Feng Jing's consciousness shook violently, as if he wanted to break free from the constraints of this power, but no matter how he struggled, he could not escape. That voice, that power, seemed to be omnipresent, permeating every part of Feng Jing's being.

"I am a void born from nothing," the voice echoed again. "I am the truth you have never touched, and the fate you can never escape. You have always sought transcendence, but you have never realized that all your transcendence is the destiny I have given you. You are but a pawn in fate, forever wandering in an endless cycle of reincarnation."

Feng Jing's consciousness was in turmoil. He felt as if he were trapped in an invisible vortex. Space and time around him began to collapse and deform, and every existence began to flow, intertwine, and be reborn in a disorderly manner. Each of Feng Jing's "fragments" collided with each other in this process, colliding into even more bizarre forms, forming an incomprehensible super-dimensional structure, both real and illusory, both existing and non-existent.

"Are you telling the truth?" Feng Jing's "existence" continued to fragment and reassemble, his voice tinged with a faint sneer. "If I'm just a pawn in fate, then why can I see all possibilities, even destroy the entire universe with my own hands? Why can I reverse everything and break free from the constraints of your so-called cycle of fate?"

"You think you've broken free?" the voice said with a hint of sarcasm. "What you call breaking free is nothing more than a self-imposed illusion. You can see everything, but you still can't escape. You've witnessed countless collapses and rebirths, but you've never truly reached the 'end.' Everything you do is just a cycle of fate, a never-ending cycle."

Feng Jing's mind was shaken once again. This time, his "existence" suddenly shifted dramatically. The very laws of space and time began to crumble within him. He felt like he was no longer "Feng Jing," no longer any individual. He had become "nothing." He had lost his identity, his past, his future, and even his "self."

He became a void, the convergence point of countless beings in the universe. All the stars, all life, all destinies, all timelines intersected, collided, collapsed, and were reborn within him. Feng Jing could no longer distinguish himself from anything else. He became part of countless possibilities. All laws, all existence, even chaos itself, became undefinable.

"I," Feng Jing's consciousness echoed in this endless void, "I am no longer 'I'. I am no longer anything. I am both nothing and something, both existence and nothingness. What am I, what exactly am I?"

At this moment, Feng Jing's consciousness suddenly split. Countless "him"s emerged from the void, each representing a separate "Feng Jing," each possessing independent consciousness and thoughts. Yet, these Feng Jings were interconnected, interwoven into an indivisible whole.

"Do you think you've found the 'ultimate truth'?" a voice boomed from the depths of Feng Jing's consciousness. This time, the voice no longer came from a specific "being," but from Feng Jing himself. Countless Feng Jing voices responded simultaneously. "Everything you see is of your own creation. Everything you experience is the embodiment of your deepest desires and fears. Every rebirth and collapse you experience is a fate you have conferred upon yourself."

"Then," Feng Jing's consciousness became clear again, "everything I've experienced was created by myself? Then why can't I end it all? Why can't I transcend it?"

"Because you can never escape," the voice sounded again, "You are part of fate, and fate is part of you. You are the beginning and the end of this infinite cycle. You are the source of all possibilities, the intersection of all illusions and reality. You cannot transcend yourself, because you have already transcended everything."

Feng Jing's existence once again fell into a state of extreme collapse and rebirth. He no longer held any particular form, but rather was part of an eternal cycle. Time and space were no longer things he could comprehend, and all laws no longer applied. He was no longer a conscious individual, but a speck of dust in an endless cycle of reincarnation, a place with no end in sight.

"I have surpassed everything." Feng Jing's "voice" echoed in the void, but there was no way to know whether it was Feng Jing's true wish or a sigh in endless fate.

This endless cycle was destined to have no answers, no end. Feng Jing, perhaps he was no longer Feng Jing, perhaps he no longer existed, just a paradox in the void, forever wandering on the edge of "existence" and "non-existence", never able to reach the end.

Chapter 586: Endless Reversals and the Countercurrent of the Universe