The Blood Saint's mental state was indeed abnormal at this moment.
Take cultivation, for instance—there was a pattern to it. The weaker someone was, say, an ordinary person, the less likely they were to suffer a cultivation deviation. Not just anyone was qualified to go mad from cultivation. If you wanted to go bankrupt, you had to own a business first.
The stronger a person became, the firmer and more powerful their worldview grew. Not even the strongest gale could shake them; their mind and will could remain steadfast until heaven and earth crumbled, their heart unchanged, their intent eternal.
But under such circumstances, once their own beliefs suffered a massive upheaval, the disturbance it brought would be equally immense. A thousand years, ten thousand years, even trillions of years might not be enough to calm it or set it right.
By all normal reasoning, a powerhouse like the Blood Saint would never question whether he himself was real or illusory, nor would he question whether the world was real or illusory.
What sort of person among them was not unwavering in the belief: I think, therefore I am; I think, therefore the world is?!
They would never ponder questions such as whether they or the world were real, which was real and which was false, or whether both were real or both were false.
Even if something claiming to be the Creator appeared and insisted that it had created both them and this world, they might believe it, but they would never consider themselves unreal.
This had nothing to do with confidence. It was simply how things were.
The Blood Saint's mind was in chaos now because, in such a short span of time, he had undergone too many "changes." Change was a good thing, but too much at