Get the hell out of my face!

A sharp, searing pain exploded across Hua Jing's face.

Her head snapped to the side, a loud ringing echoing in her ears. The sheer force of the slap nearly sent her stumbling, but she caught herself at the last moment, her fists clenching at her sides.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

She spat onto the floor, crimson droplets staining the pristine tiles of her courtyard.

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her gaze, her burning eyes locking onto the group of women who had dared to barge into her compound.

The first consort.

The third consort.

The fourth consort.

The fifth consort.

The sixth consort.

All of them stood before her, still dressed in the elegant robes they had worn at the emperor's banquet. But the regal grace they once carried had been replaced with something much uglier—rage, resentment, and raw hostility.

Hua Jing's eyes darkened.

And the one who had slapped her?