My Billionaire Ex-Husband Chase Me Back - Chapter 562: How Could I Die Like This?

This novel is also known as 1000 Years Later, Even My Weakest Follower Has Become A Demon King

After traveling through the game where he worked so hard to clear the level, Zhou Mu found that the whole world was stunned for some reason.

Why is the mainland united in its own name?

What’s going on with this religion in its own name?

What the hell are members of the royal family claiming to have their own bloodline? I wonder if this game doesn’t have this feature?

“What have you done in the thousand years I’ve been away!”

- Description from novelbuddy

Viserys Targaryen was born with the blood of dragons and yet lived his life in exile. He was a prince with a lost kingdom and a fading legacy, an immature bastard who died a pitiful death. Unfortunately, that same death was coming for me now… as I found myself in his body right before molten gold fried my brain.Yes. Fuck Khal Drogo, and fuck the molten crown.With the memories from another life, in this world of betrayal and broken oaths, I had the chance to forge a new destiny for myself. Armed with the knowledge of the future, my own cunning, and [The Dragon System], I made the choice to flee from the Dothraki barbarians and take back what was rightfully mine.

Waking up in the body of a 6-year-old boy a few years before Cintra is destroyed, Madara receives a system that gives him the ability to gain the powers of Uchiha Madara.[The peak of Uchiha Madara's system is before he becomes the ten-tails jinchuuriki.]The system's percentage does not stop Madara's power, but rather the system's release. After all, I don't want to see a character who goes around killing everyone from the beginning of the story.

[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.