Step Aside, Let the Emperor Handle It!

Shen Tang wakes up on the road to exile and discovers that this world is utterly unscientific.

Heaven drops divine stones, a hundred nations vie for supremacy.

Literature condenses the literary heart, words spoken become reality.

Martial arts gather martial courage, cleaving mountains and severing seas.

The pretty boy she took for a weakling utters "Spear brandished, horse spurred!", and in the next second, armor envelops his body, a long spear in hand—he becomes an army of one, charging seven times in and out through thousands of troops!

The sickly wretch in her eyes chants "Stars scattered like a chessboard," the sky like a round canopy, the land like a chessboard, deploying troops with effortless grace!

This can't even be called unscientific anymore!

It's clearly science's coffin nailed shut by theology!

And she—

"Lord, the Northern County is suffering a drought. How about you cry a little?"

Shen Tang: "......"

"Lord, the Southern State is flooded. How about you smile a bit?"

Shen Tang: "......"

Looking at the ten large bowls of rice she's polished off, her pocket cleaner than her face, and a group of hungry, malicious, trouble-stirring villagers waiting to be fed, the village chief Shen Tang—suspected reincarnation of a bottomless pit eater, true soul painter—has no choice but to abandon her beloved paintbrush and embark on the path of applying to become a feudal lord.