When I opened my eyes, I had become a cannon-fodder female general in a novel, one who wouldn’t survive past chapter three.
The enemy army was at the city gates, and the original owner was being forced by her trusted aide to drink poisoned wine.
I snatched the bowl back and splashed the wine right at him. “I’ve changed my mind, General. You can take command of the vanguard instead.”
The princes in the capital, who were waiting for me to die in battle, panicked. What happened to the meek stand-in they’d been promised?
Then I knocked the enemy chieftain from his horse with a single thrust of my spear and kicked open the palace gates, drenched in blood.
The frail Crown Prince on the Dragon Throne looked up with a faint smile. “I’ve been waiting for you, transmigrator.”
