But this treasure was now slumbering within his Eternal Dao Fruit, impossible to take out at all.
As for temporarily manifesting its form and essence, it was instead like performing a fist technique.
In the most ancient age, the Blood Saint had suppressed mountains and rivers with his fists, even creating such peerless boxing as the Blood Extreme Ten Paths.
It was a kind of limit, not a supreme scripture, and thus could not bear that name.
Therefore, even as Zhao Cheng's sword moved, the Blood Saint threw punch after punch. Every fist carried the grand majesty of inheriting the past and ushering in the future, of splitting Heaven and Earth apart.
Even after losing half of his Eternal Light, the Blood Saint's power had, astonishingly, not declined by much in the short term.
But this was normal. Eternal Light was not some energy core, but something almost akin to an origin.
If damage to one's origin caused one's power to plummet instantly, then there would be no desperate techniques in this world of burning one's origin to raise one's strength.
Before it was completely exhausted, one's origin would not directly affect one's power.
Of course, the evil consequences brought by damage to one's origin were far greater than a mere loss of strength.
It was only that the Blood Saint was forcibly suppressing all kinds of negative effects for now.
At the same time, the Blood Saint had concluded that Zhao Cheng would be unable to replicate, in the short term, that sword strike which had severed eternity before.
Though he had been briefly startled earlier, even amid that astonishment, he understood that the sword which severed eternity had an absolute connection to the blood sacrifice he had performed in that false multiverse.
It was also during that blood