Novels by Vallie

The morning of the summit arrived with a sky the color of a bruised plum. By midday, Swallow’s Hollow had ceased to be a quiet, forgotten corner of the world. It had become a pressure cooker. Outside, the mist was so thick it felt like walking through wet wool, yet that didn't stop the carriages, the riders on giant spectral stags, and the barefooted masters of hidden sects from descending upon the tavern.Shen spent the morning reinforcing the door with salvaged iron bands, his movements rhythmic and devoid of hesitation. He knew who was coming. He knew what they wanted. He checked his pockets, confirming the obsidian card from Lin Juncheng was still there, a cold weight against his thigh.When the first of them walked in, the air in the room grew heavy enough to make the floorboards moan. It was the summit."Innkeeper," a voice boomed, sharp as a whip-crack.Shen didn't look up from his polishing. "It’s ten copper for a seat. One gold for a table. If you want a full carafe, that’s a

The purple smoke clung to the ceiling like a bruised cloud, smelling of scorched sugar and failed ambition. Shen Ruichen coughed, waving a rag through the haze, his eyes stinging. Tang Ruiwen stood amidst the soot, his robes ruined, still scribbling frantically in his journal as if the chemical fire had been a divine revelation rather than a disaster.Just as the air began to thin, the heavy, ruined frame of the tavern door creaked again. A man stepped through, moving with the practiced, oily grace of someone who never had to worry about getting his boots dirty. He wore fine charcoal-grey silks that looked entirely out of place in a hovel filled with sleeping mercenaries and an unhinged alchemist."An explosion?" the man said, his voice smooth as polished jade. "I must say, I expected the 'Swallow’s Hollow Miracle' to involve something a bit more... refined than a roomful of unconscious thugs and a ceiling coated in ash."Shen wiped a smudge of soot from his forehead and tossed the ra

"I don't want a drink, innkeeper," the man said, his gaze drifting from the prostrate mercenaries to the iridescent shimmer within the earthenware jar. "I want to know where you hid the rest of the batch."Shen tightened his grip on the broom handle, feeling the wood groan under his fingers. He looked at the newcomer—this Tang Ruiwen—and tried to push down the rising panic in his chest. "Listen, pal, I don't know what you're talking about. It’s berry wine. You want the recipe? It’s three parts 'leave me alone,' two parts 'I’m tired of cleaning up after thugs,' and a splash of pure, unadulterated bad luck."Tang Ruiwen didn't even blink. He walked to the counter, his pristine robes flowing like water over the debris, and peered into the jar. He reached out a hand, his fingers hovering inches above the swirling, silvery liquid. "The viscosity is wrong for mere berry fermentation. And the ambient qi signature... it’s erratic, yet structured. Did you add something? A catalyst? Perhaps a p

The door swung wide, not by Shen’s hand, but by the sheer, brutal momentum of an armored shoulder. The wood groaned, the iron hinges shrieked in protest, and Shen Ruichen stumbled back, his feet skidding on the dust-covered floor.Standing in the threshold was a man who looked like he had been carved out of jagged granite. Han Zhiren wore blackened steel plate, his cloak stained with the grime of the mountain paths. Behind him, a dozen men bristled with polearms and rusted longswords, their eyes scanning the tavern with the hunger of wolves."You’re the one," Han Zhiren spat, his voice like gravel grinding in a mill. "The 'miracle brewer.' Give us the source, and maybe you get to keep your hands."Shen took a steadying breath, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He kept his face blank, leaning back against the counter and picking up a polishing rag with trembling, yet precise, fingers. "You’re late. Closing time was ten minutes ago. And you just broke the door. T

The door swung shut behind the woman, the heavy oak frame rattling in its moorings. The silence that followed was absolute, a suffocating vacuum that seemed to suck the warmth right out of the room. Shen Ruichen stood frozen, his fingers still hovering over the black copper token that sat on the counter like a festering wound."Hey," Shen whispered to the empty room, his voice sounding thin and brittle. "You forgot your change. And you forgot to tell me what that riddle actually means."He looked toward the entrance, half-expecting the woman, Mei Haoxiang, to step back in and mock his confusion. But there was nothing beyond the frosted glass save for the swirling, indifferent fog of Swallow’s Hollow.He leaned over the counter and snatched up the token. It was cold—unnaturally so, as if it had been forged in the heart of a winter storm. He wiped his palms on his apron, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird."Great," he muttered, shaking his head. "Just great. A toke

The door groaned under the weight of three men pushing against it simultaneously. Before Shen could even reach for the latch, it burst inward, slamming against the interior wall with a crack that vibrated through the floorboards."Brother Luo," the man in the lead sneered, stepping into the tavern with his robes fluttering like the wings of a hungry crow. "It’s hardly neighborly to hoard such a magnificent vintage all for yourself, is it?"Shen stepped forward, hands held up in a placating gesture, though his jaw was set tight. "Hey! Do you mind? There’s a perfectly good entrance fee—it’s called ‘not breaking the property.’ You’re already making a mess of the foyer."Luo Tianze didn’t even look at the newcomers. He kept his gaze fixed on the earthenware jar, his hand still hovering near the ladle. "Gu Wenhao. Qiao Zhenyu. I should have known the smell of opportunity would bring out the bottom-feeders."Gu Wenhao, a man with a thin, drooping mustache and eyes that darted around the roo