Wei’s engineers laid the targeting keys across a stone table. Each had a number scratched into its side. They compared those marks with the disabled array and placed the matching key beside its drawing. The artillery crew watched under guard, uncertain whether surrender meant prison or execution.
Yan stood at the edge of the table. “Keep your hands visible. The city laborers leave first. We’ll count the firing seals before anyone decides what happens to the weapons.”
One gunner glanced at Captain Rul. “You said we would hold the gate.”
“And you did,” Rul said. “The line is broken now. Put the weapon down.”
The man set his bow on the ground. The others followed. No one cheered. The courtyard held the smell of hot metal and broken stone; the blast marks were still visible along the wall.
Wei’s team found several local prisoners behind a storage screen. They had been forced to carry powder and repair the platforms. One held a hammer in both hands, as if he expected to be ordered back to work. A woman beside him kept a child close under her coat.
“You’re free to leave,” Yan said. “The western gate is open.”
The woman looked toward the gunners. “Will they come after us?”
