The Empress Is a Walking Arsenal

I am the fifth princess consort the regent has married.

The first four were also women who had transmigrated. One healed his injured leg, one helped him recruit talented people, and one helped him devise policies.

On our wedding night, he gripped my throat and sneered, “Fifth woman to transmigrate here, what can you bring me?”

I pulled out the arsenal I carried with me.

Grinning even more savagely than he was, I said, “Want me to take you straight to hell?”