The day I became a disgraced concubine in the cold palace, my survival rating was 22%.
Leftover, spoiled food, a drafty, crumbling hall, and spies from every faction watching me like hawks.
While others relied on cunning to win palace battles, I relied on the System.
A bowl of hot soup won loyalty, a recipe built connections, and one chance encounter captured the emperor’s heart.
I planned every step, winning people over with food, defusing deadly threats with strategy, and earning a young child’s trust with sincerity.
The System spread a complete map of the inner palace before my eyes: who was an enemy, who was a pawn, and who could be an ally. It was all crystal clear.
When the phoenix seal finally fell into my hands, the civil and military officials bowed and addressed me as “Your Majesty, Empress.”
Now the entire palace must follow my rules.
Then the System quietly displayed one final question: “Ultimate mission [Phoenix Ascendant] complete. Would you like to... go home?”
