Chapter 266: What Major Transformation Might Have Occurred in the Future

Severing human academia's transcendence, the future, the past, two segments of time…

Recalling the key points of their words, Director Takahashi's teeth chattered:

"Could the 'cutting of time' they spoke of actually mean cutting time itself?"

Everyone fell silent, like mute men, clearly sharing Director Takahashi's thoughts and daring not to think further.

It wasn't cutting wood or iron, nor slicing the starry sky or celestial bodies—it was time, age, itself. How could you cut that? It involved the theory of time, one of the most terrifying eternal laws, even more so than the taboo of resurrection.

Time is irreversible, unstopable, intangible, unscented, invisible—but felt.

The sun rises and sets, spring and autumn alternate—these are concepts of time's change, yet they are not time itself. Changing seasons and the rising and setting of sun and moon is not changing time. Time has no form, no shape; even gods and demons hold it in awe.

This is an ancient, unchanging law, more mysterious than the law of life and death, the one law in the world most impossible to alter—without exception.

But now, this common understanding has been shattered.

Time has been severed?! Split into two?!

If so, when time flows forward and reaches the fracture, what happens? Does everything stop? Or sink into eternity? Or…

Too terrifying to imagine.

If time vanishes, other concepts tied to it vanish too. Then is the world still the world? Like a tiny boat drifting endlessly across an infinite sea, having lost its direction, forever adrift.

No—not forever. It is damnation.

Because "forever" is itself a worldly concept. You will be drowned in boundless sea, never able to escape, never able to leave, unaware of where you are, unaware of where you are, as if trapped in a pitch-black space where not even your hand can be seen, knowing nothing at all.

Thinking of that emptiness, that damnation after time vanishes, Director Takahashi trembled all over.

If losing time means this, it is worse than death.

Of course, it might not be like this at all—no one knows what it truly is. Time's absence exists only in theory; no one has ever encountered it.

"It's impossible to sever time—even gods and demons cannot do it. Their words must be metaphorical, not literal time-cutting."

Professor Zhongtian spoke out sharply in denial.

Immediately after, he scanned the group, exhaling deeply—his inner mind far from calm.

Facing unknown terror is often the most frightening, especially when that unknown involves time—the world's most mysterious and inaccessible force—yet the more one fears, the more one thinks.

"Though the law of life and death is also among the world's most untouchable taboos, gods and demons can alter it—but that doesn't prove time's law can be changed.

After all, gods and demons can resurrect only those weaker than themselves; when facing stronger beings, they too must die, irreversibly, truly dead. And time's law is far more mysterious than life and death.

The law of life and death involves soul reincarnation—something still tangible, not formless and colorless.

Time is different. Time has no form, no color; it is neither matter nor spirit.

More importantly, if gods and demons could alter time's law, why not reverse time to trace back to the very origin of the First Battlefield and crush it in its cradle? Or use time to travel to the moment when gods and demons died and save them?"

Professor Zhongtian had just finished speaking.

Professor Beishan, his face complex, opened his mouth and said:

"Because this may involve causality—not that it cannot be changed, but that the consequences of such change cannot be borne."

Everyone instantly turned to Professor Beishan.

Some did not understand his words; others had already begun to vaguely grasp their meaning.

Professor Beishan paid no heed to the shifting expressions around him and spoke gravely:

"Scientists have not failed to study and theorize about time. In fact, countless scientists throughout history have proposed theories on time—such as the Grandfather Paradox, temporal contradiction, the Butterfly Effect, and more.

These theories all boil down to one idea: time cannot be changed. Alter the past, and the future changes too—pull one hair, and the whole body moves.

Buddhism has this saying: 'Plant a cause, reap a fruit.' It means: whatever you do, you must bear its consequence—everything has a cause and a fruit, cause and effect coexist.

Time is something all things must involve; nothing can escape time. All beings, all things, are tied to time.

Suppose—I say suppose—this Buddhist saying also applies to time?

Gods and demons could alter time, but they would also bear the karmic consequences of that change—such as karmic fire consuming them, invisible, intangible karmic retribution? Only the most powerful gods and demons could alter time, yet they would never dare to do so lightly.

After all, time involves too much. Even if change were possible, they would never touch it lightly.

"Then if Professor Beishan is right, why don't the powerful gods and demons crush the origin of the First Battlefield? If powerful gods and demons don't easily alter time, the First Battlefield is precisely the kind of thing they should want to change." Professor Zhongtian replied.

Without hesitation, Professor Beishan said:

"Because 'the other side' has already said: they have severed past and future. If you wish to alter the past to influence the future, but the future is already severed—imagine time as a river, the past upstream, the future downstream.

The upstream can affect the downstream, but once the river is cut into two segments, they can no longer influence each other."

With these words, Professor Beishan's cloudy eyes flickered.

At that moment,

Minister Saito frowned and spoke bluntly:

"That doesn't make sense. If time truly can be severed, then to crush the origin of the First Battlefield, you'd have to go back to the past.

According to the phenomenon of the Greek gods' return, the First Battlefield appeared at least in the Ancient Era.

To alter the emergence of the First Battlefield in the Ancient Era, thereby affecting the future so that the First Battlefield never appears again—and to avoid being affected yourself, you'd have to sever the Ancient Era from the present era.

In simple terms: sever the Ancient Era, so that the Ancient Era and all eras before it form one river segment, while the Post-Ancient Era to the present forms another—two segments, mutually unaffected.

But that's wrong!!

'The other side' said: 'Reclaim a path? How? By severing the transcendence of the First Realm? How ridiculous.' This clearly means: what we do in our current time segment cannot affect the future.

Then doesn't that mean the severed time segment isn't the Primordial Era—but our own current time?"

Everyone froze.

Yes—'the other side' clearly knew the gods' decree forbidding humans from transcendental cultivation, and knew this decree was meant to win against 'the other side'.

And Luxi and Tsukuyomi said humans were tied to victory.

Therefore, humans play a decisive role—they can influence the future.

Then 'the other side' should have severed our current time segment—not the past—to prevent us from affecting the future.

…