Bambi and the Duke - Chapter 248 - Dying Heart

What do you do when you wake up and find yourself inside the very game that you love?

What do you do when you realize you that you have not only become an NPC – you have even been thrown back in time to before the game even launched!

What will happen when our protagonist’s two realities coincide?

Han Xiao was a professional power leveler before his transmigration. Using his past life’s knowledge, Han Xiao sweeps through the universe as he prepares for the arrival of the players. This is definitely not your typical transmigration novel.

Beatty, a weak squirrel shapeshifter who was born into a lion family. Because of that, I lived my life being ab*sed at my aunt’s house in the Capital. When I told my only friend and fiancé, the Second Prince, that I would leave to achieve my dream, ‘Ritter, you bastard…!’ I died on his fangs. I opened my eyes again to my childhood, the time before I got myself involved with the Second Prince. At times like this, what do you need? Speed. I immediately withdrew my body only and ran away to the territory of my biological father, the Lion Duke. Though I won’t be welcomed, if I possess this one great secret that will only be discovered in the future, I won’t get kicked ou— “Welcome, Young Miss!” “OMG! When did you grow up like this…?” “Young Miss is walking with those two cute feet!” … Huh? Why am I welcomed like this? No way, is that my statue?

By the fourth year of Su Wan's career, every league rookie hears the same warning from their coach and veteran teammates: “You can try to impress him. You can even try to defend him. But no matter what—no matter if he hurls the most brutal insults your way—never, ever talk shit to him!”

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.