Published at 25th of August 2026 9:07 am

Volume 8, Chapter 64: A Single Thread of Life

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Among everyone present, no one understood more clearly than Fuyuan and the old City Lord what would happen to someone who put on the Golden Helmet.

The Golden Helmet would, without one even realizing, turn the wearer into something like a companion god—a monster.

So for Fuyuan to say he would be the one to wear it was a decision made with genuine courage and resolve.

When he finished speaking, silence fell again across the viewing platform.

Fuyuan lowered his head, staring at the Golden Helmet in his hands, and murmured softly:

“Even now, I still don’t understand why the ancestor Apollo, praised as the most compassionate and most loving deity, would leave behind a sacred artifact like this...”

“But if, at such a moment of life and death, someone must be chosen from our clan to wear the Golden Helmet—and that person may lose their life because of it... Then I will never allow my people to take that risk. As the current leader of the Blazing Sun, no matter what the final result is, I, Fuyuan... will be the one to follow fate first.”

When he said this...

He spoke no further. He simply fell into silence, as though praying in his heart, or revisiting memories of his past.

Morgan put away the faint smile he’d worn before and looked seriously at the city lord who had already made his decision. He spoke in a low voice:

“I won’t evaluate his administrative ability—but to have this kind of fearlessness toward death is truly rare. He is worthy of every child of the Sun.”

Odin remained calm and solemn, his voice deep:

“Anyone who can become a leader possesses something that surpasses others.”

Off to the side, Leon and Rosvisser listened quietly to Morgan and Odin. Though the exchange was brief, Odin had captured the essence of leadership with a single sentence.

The couple looked toward each other. With only the exchange of a few glances, they understood one another’s thoughts.

In that brief silence, they recalled the will they once glimpsed in Fuyuan—that blazing, unrestrained flame—along with his long-held bias against the God of Light Apollo and the other primordial gods, especially the Starborn.

This prejudice did not originate at birth; it formed slowly over a lifetime in this remote, isolated land—deep-rooted and difficult to change.

Even now, Fuyuan still carried this resentment and incomprehension toward Apollo.

And yet...

Before the entire Blazing Sun clan and the people of Samael, facing the crisis of the dying sun, he made this decision.

Just as Odin said — any leader who can stand above others has a defining quality that belongs to no one else.

At this moment, the couple’s impression of Fuyuan changed.

Perhaps—everyone really could sit down someday, share tea, talk—not doctrine, not politics, not arena conflict, not power struggle.

Perhaps—friends, even.

If he survived this rekindling.

“Orion.”

After half a minute of silence, Fuyuan spoke.

Orion Pyx paused, then immediately answered: “Yes, City Lord.”

“If I fail to control the Golden Helmet... and meet the same fate as the Blazing Sun heroes before me... then you will be the next City Lord of the Blazing Sun City. There is no need for the elders to vote. No need for the people to elect. Based on your everyday merit and reputation, no one will dispute my decision. Do you understand, Orion?”

He clearly knew how slim his chances were—so he had already arranged his successor.

Orion’s eyes trembled, stunned. “C-City Lord, I still—”

“I asked if you understood, Orion Pyx.” Fuyuan repeated, word by word.

Orion clenched her jaw. She wanted to speak, but after a moment of silence, only replied quietly:

“...Yes, City Lord.”

Only after hearing Orion accept the command did Fuyuan let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Good, Orion. I believe you will do well in every task. Including this one. And also...”

Suddenly, Fuyuan’s voice softened.

"About your teacher... back then... I am sorry. It was my failure to keep the situation under control, and it forced her to... end that way."

Thump. Thump.

The old City Lord struck the viewing platform floor sharply with his cane, the sound cutting sharply through the air.

“Fuyuan. Old matters need not be spoken again. The prophecy has come true—disaster descends. If the prophecy is to be answered—let it be I!”

This time, Morgan didn’t even need Odin’s hint to understand.

“...Is this old guy trying to hurry Fuyuan to his death on purpose?”

Odin lowered his brows and narrowed his eyes toward Orion, then spoke:

“Among us, Orion may be inexperienced, but she is far easier to stabilize than Fuyuan.”

Morgan raised a silent thumbs-up.

Sinister old fox.

But ultimately, this was internal politics. The Dragon Kings and Leon would not interfere.

“Old City Lord, I am not afraid.”

Fuyuan took a slow breath and gave Orion one final look.

There was guilt in his eyes.

But he said nothing more—just walked onto the center of the viewing platform. Under the gaze of all present, he slowly lifted the Golden Helmet high.

What must come will come. What must be faced will be faced.

Since he had spoken that no matter the result, he would accept his fate—he would not retreat.

Fear?

Of course he was afraid.

Who is not afraid of death?

But if this could give even the slightest hope of saving the Blazing Sun, Fuyuan was willing to gamble everything.

Leon watched the figure standing beneath the shrunken sunlight—this unwavering resolve reminded him of the countless times he had risked his life for his family.

Whatever history existed between them, at this moment, Leon sincerely wished Fuyuan success—that he would become the prophesied hero of Apollo.

Fuyuan lifted the Golden Helmet, its sharp edges catching what little sunlight remained, scattering dazzling points of light.

He narrowed his eyes, lowered his head, took one last look at his Blazing Sun City, and smiled.

“What a fine tribe. Even without the ancestor’s blessing—so what?”

Leon did not understand what that meant—but in that moment, Fuyuan seemed to release a long-held knot in his heart.

Finally, he slowly placed the Golden Helmet upon his head.

The cold metal touched his skin.

He closed his eyes.

Whether salvation or ash...

The answer would come at once.

...

When Fuyuan opened his eyes again, he was shocked to find his body unscorched.

He stared at his hands in disbelief.

“I... I was acknowledged by the Golden Helmet?!”

At that, Morgan was the first to shout with excitement:

“Oho~~ not bad at all, City Lord Fuyuan! See? I told you—the new era’s handsome young leader should be at the helm!”

While praising him, Morgan still couldn’t resist making it sound like an insult to the old City Lord. Truly, the Goldsand Dragon King.

Odin shot him a blunt glare. “You’re nearly a thousand years old. Young?”

“My heart is youthful, thank you! Hmph!”

Fuyuan had successfully put on the Golden Helmet, and the tense pressure that had hung across everyone’s skin loosened slightly.

But just as hope began to rise...

The old City Lord suddenly spoke:

“Fuyuan—after wearing the helmet, do you feel the power of the ancestor Apollo?”

Reminded by him, Fuyuan quickly pressed down his excitement and focused intently, sensing for the new power.

Everyone watched him with held breath.

But after several long seconds—Fuyuan felt nothing.

Confused, he said:

“That shouldn’t be right. According to the prophecy—whoever is recognized by the Golden Helmet will be reborn in flame and obtain the divine power to reignite the light... But why... why is there no response?”

He carefully removed the helmet and examined it again—but could see no clue.

“The Golden Helmet is the sacred artifact left by our ancestor Apollo. No one has ever doubted its power. To destroy it...”

The old City Lord stepped forward slowly, his cane tapping lightly as he raised his left hand.

“And even if it truly had been destroyed, I would sense it immediately.”

A faint flame rose from his palm, drifting upward to hover over the Golden Helmet.

He let the helmet float in the air above his hand.

“Then—ancestor, forgive my discourtesy.”

With that, he poured immense pressure over it.

Crack—

The Golden Helmet instantly bent and buckled, metal shrieking sharply.

He increased the pressure.

The helmet continued to collapse.

Until the gleaming divine artifact...

Was crushed into a twisted heap of scrap metal.

Fuyuan’s pupils dilated wide in disbelief.

“How... how is that possible?! The Golden Helmet is—!”

The old City Lord flicked the crushed mass aside.

“That’s right. This Golden Helmet... is fake.”

Fuyuan’s voice broke into a shout:

“Then where is the real Golden Helmet?!”

The situation changed in an instant. Even the Dragon Kings were stunned.

Only Leon...

Quietly turned his head...

And looked at Constantine beside him.

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