Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 562: The Shackles of Time and Space and the Birth of Reversal

The Shackles of Time and Space and the Birth of Reversal

Feng Jing's consciousness split open again, as if all of time and space had reversed at that moment. The scene he witnessed was utterly bizarre: a massive planet devouring itself, the very laws of the universe collapsing. However, the most bizarre thing wasn't the destruction itself, but Feng Jing himself—he hadn't existed from the beginning, but had been "reborn" in an endless, reversed flow of time.

Feng Jing found himself constantly moving backward from the future to the past, as if a once-exploded star were being recondensed in the flow of time. He, this "Feng Jing," was also jumping between parallel dimensions, each without any boundaries. With each jump, he experienced a complete reversal from "existence" to "nothingness," and this reverse existence made it impossible for him to understand which dimension he truly belonged to.

"What the hell is going on?" Feng Jing's voice was filled with a completely inescapable fear and confusion. "Where did I come from? Am I the creator, or the created being?"

At this moment, his consciousness was suddenly pulled towards the center of a certain void by an irresistible force. Feng Jing was shocked and found himself sucked into a completely different dimension, a dimension without any matter, without the flow of time, only endless echoes.

"You're finally here." That cold voice reappeared, this time with a strange sigh. "You are no longer Feng Jing. Feng Jing no longer exists. You are the ultimate embodiment of fate, the final product of nothingness."

Feng Jing's consciousness threatened to collapse, but he forced himself to open his eyes. What he saw wasn't a "world" in the traditional sense, but an infinitely digital fantasy filled with countless fragmented selves. Each of Feng Jing's selves struggled in a cycle, trying to break free from the shackles from which they could never escape.

"Why?" Feng Jing's voice was faint, but still clearly audible in the void. "Why do I have to go through this? Why do I have to become part of this cycle that I can't escape?"

"Because you can't avoid it." The voice said with a hint of joking, "You are no longer a single individual. You are a composite of countless Feng Jings, a combination of fate and nothingness. Everything you are originates from 'emptiness', and everything you are returns to 'emptiness'."

Feng Jing's consciousness began to manifest even more bizarre images—he saw himself experiencing a "rebirth" unlike any he had ever experienced. However, this wasn't a traditional rebirth, but rather a reverse one—he was traveling from the future back to the past, with every past memory distorted by self-analysis and self-entanglement. He constantly relived past pain and choices, even beginning to wonder if all this "past" wasn't really the past, but rather an illusion of a future version of himself.

"The pain you experience is of your own making," the voice echoed faintly. "Every choice, every struggle, is a game you set for yourself. You cannot escape because you cannot understand yourself."

Feng Jing's consciousness was reversed again. This time, he saw himself emerging from nothingness, becoming part of the void—no longer an independent individual, but an invisible being, wandering between all dimensions, forever undefinable. All Feng Jings were not the real Feng Jing, but rather the interweaving of himself and others, a reflection of each fate.

Just as Feng Jing fell into deep self-doubt, he suddenly witnessed an even more bizarre phenomenon—his own virtual image was merging with a part of himself. This part wasn't from him, but from a version of himself that no longer existed. This version of Feng Jing clashed violently with his present self, a conflict that tore the very fabric of the universe apart.

"Do you see?" The voice suddenly became gentle, as if giving Feng Jing some profound instruction. "You are no longer 'Feng Jing'. You have become a composite of countless Feng Jings, a fusion of fate and nothingness. And you, Feng Jing, are not an individual. You are the combination of all individuals, the unity of countless dimensions."

Feng Jing's consciousness was torn apart again. He saw himself floating in an endless river of time, surrounded by countless versions of himself. All the images of Feng Jing were intertwined into a ball of indistinguishable light and shadow, like a distorted mirror, reflecting the consequences of every choice and every decision.

"You can't understand, Feng Jing." The voice grew deeper. "You don't belong to any world. You are the original existence of fate. All of you, all of 'Feng Jing', are merely manifestations of fate."

Feng Jing could barely breathe, as if the entire universe were collapsing before him. As he tried to comprehend it all, he suddenly realized he had no substance. He had lost his body, any sense of existence. His "self" was merely an abstract concept, drifting between endless fate and nothingness.

"You are 'empty,'" the voice whispered one last time. "You are no longer Feng Jing. Feng Jing has long since disappeared. You are merely the first spark of fate and nothingness, the only bridge between all existence and non-existence."

Feng Jing once again fell into an endless state of confusion—he began to wonder if he had completely disappeared, or if he had never existed. Were all the worlds, all the pain, all the choices, illusions he had created? Was he just some kind of experiment set by fate? Had he never truly been himself?

Finally, Feng Jing saw countless images, countless "Feng Jings" disappearing into nothingness. And his consciousness also floated forever in this nothingness, becoming an undefinable existence, unable to escape this endless cycle.