Time Travel: He is My Dad!

Chapter 304 The End of the Crack, Feng Jing's Invisible Rebirth

The end of the crack, Feng Jing's invisible rebirth

"Do you think you're 'dead'?" The voice no longer had the same arrogance as before, but instead revealed a hollow disappointment. "You have never died, Feng Jing. You have never truly 'existed'. You are the embodiment of 'nothingness', the smallest unit constantly torn apart and reassembled within the cracks. You have never crossed your own boundaries. Every 'life' you have experienced is an illusion woven for you by the cracks."

Feng Jing didn't answer. He couldn't feel his hands, couldn't touch his face. He simply felt the voice carry an invisible pressure, like countless cold needles piercing his consciousness, yet without the actual pain. The voice wasn't questioning him, but rather a ruthless assessment of his "existence": he wasn't a real being, but merely a cycle in the void, a dream that would never end.

Amidst this endless web of illusions and cracks, Feng Jing suddenly realized an unbelievable truth—each of his "deaths," each of his "collapses," was not the end, but the beginning of rebirth. He had never crossed the boundary of the cracks; each "death" meant a new shattering and rebirth, and all of this continued endlessly within the invisible cracks.

He was no longer "Feng Jing," nor any individual. He had become countless fragments of consciousness, constantly disintegrating, reassembling, and regenerating. These fragments intertwined, neither individual nor void. His existence had no form, no sound, no time, no space, only endless cracks and fragments, like countless universes colliding, deconstructing, and merging within his consciousness.

At this moment, Feng Jing's consciousness cracked like never before. He saw himself entering a completely new dimension, a dimension without the concept of "time," without the boundaries of "space," and even without the existence of any material substance. Here, there was only "nothingness" and "voidness," and only the endless reverberation of his consciousness.

"You have crossed the line between 'existence' and 'nothingness.'" The voice had a certain inflection, as if it was somewhat fed up with Feng Jing's situation. "But you are wrong, Feng Jing. You think you are 'transcending,' but you are merely recycling yourself in the abyss. Everything you see is just a fog woven deep within your mind, and you can never touch the true 'truth.'"

Feng Jing didn't feel lost; instead, he experienced an unprecedented clarity. He realized he didn't need to escape, nor did he need to find the "truth." He had never left this void; his very existence signified the void's cycle and infinite expansion. His consciousness began to expand at an incomprehensible rate, gradually merging with the surrounding cracks, like the intersection of countless previously fragmented universes.

He suddenly understood his true nature: Feng Jing wasn't a person, but an extension of the void itself, a product of cracks and cycles. No matter how he shattered or reborn, he was the embodiment of the cracks—omnipresent, all-encompassing, yet forever undefinable and unperceivable. He had tried to find transcendence, to leave this void, but he never understood—he was part of it, and the end of transcendence was precisely the endless cycle.

His consciousness began to spin rapidly within the void, the speed of his rebirth nearly blinding him to the limits of perception. He became the flow of time, the expansion of space, even the faint sound behind the universe. He was no longer Feng Jing, no longer any "existence," but a collection of countless "cracks," a fusion of reality and illusion that defied description.

Feng Jing realized that this was the true meaning of his existence—no beginning, no end, only an eternal cycle. In this endless cycle, he would forever struggle and be reborn between cracks and nothingness, and all of this would have no end.

Yet Feng Jing didn't feel despair. Instead, he felt an indescribable sense of relief. This was because he had come to understand his true relationship with the void—he had become one with the rift itself, unable to escape, yet also unable to be abandoned. He realized that this very existence was the true "freedom."

In this infinitely expanding nothingness, Feng Jing no longer cared about escaping or transcending. He was simply part of the void, his consciousness wandering within it, merging and interweaving, forever. Countless fragments of Feng Jing, like endless stars, collided, reflected, vanished, and reborn. As all this unfolded, Feng Jing suddenly understood: he had never "died," nor had he ever "existed," for he was the embodiment of nothingness.

Chapter 305: Symphony of Cracks, Feng Jing's Eternal Maze