The warning signs came quietly.
It started with changes in routine. Extra drills before dawn. Messengers arriving and leaving without explanation. Officers speaking in low voices that stopped when others drew too close. Liang Wei noticed all of it. She did not ask questions.
By midday, the fortress carried a different weight. Not urgency, not panic. Preparation.
She was given more to oversee. A wider stretch of wall. A small group of soldiers whose names she learned quickly and did not hold onto. Routes were marked. Supply counts reviewed. Timetables adjusted and adjusted again.
Temporary command still did not look like authority. It looked like responsibility. She accepted it without comment.
When weapons were issued for inspection, she chose the spear.
It was not the finest one on the rack. The shaft was worn smooth from use, the metal head sharpened but unadorned. It fit her height and its balance was honest. She tested its weight once, then set it aside with the others.
Her sword remained wrapped. She thought of carrying it. The thought came easily, almost naturally, like reaching for something familiar. Her hand paused over the bundle where it rested, fingers hovering just long enough to feel the pull. Then she stepped away.
Outside, soldiers gathered in loose formations, armor catching the pale light. Some laughed too loudly. Others checked their straps again and again. Liang Wei moved among them, correcting a stance here, a spacing there. She did not raise her voice. She did not linger. They listened anyway.
By the third bell, orders were confirmed. The march would begin before nightfall.
The name Wei Yunfeng did not appear on any roster. Liang Wei noticed the absence without looking for it. His position along the parapet remained empty and the routes he favored went unwatched. When reports were delivered, they passed through different hands.
No one explained. No one needed to. She felt it like a missing sound.
As the sun lowered, she found herself standing near the outer wall, watching the road that led away from the fortress. Dust hung faintly in the distance, stirred by earlier movement. She rested both hands on the spear, grounding herself in its weight.
One who serves no one will be forced to serve themselves.
The words surfaced without warning.
Xu Yuncheng had said them once, years ago, his voice steady, his back turned as he packed her things with deliberate care. He had not looked at her when he spoke. He never did when saying something meant to stay.
She had not argued then. She did not argue now.
The horn sounded again, longer this time. Soldiers began to move, lines formed. Orders carried across stone and steel. Liang Wei stepped into her place without hesitation, spear in hand, her name answered when called.
Behind her, the fortress gates opened.
Ahead, the road waited.
And somewhere beyond it, war was already taking shape.