As the dusky twilight cast its somber veil over the high slope, Limon's commanding voice cut through the air, shouting, "Let's make our move!" In one swift motion, he vaulted onto his trusty steed, Wuzhui, and set off in the direction where the remnants of the army were hastily retreating. The female mercenaries, their eyes fierce and determined, followed closely in his wake, their boots crunching over the scattered bones that littered the ground as they maintained a steady trot, unwilling to let Limon out of their sight.