<b>Chapter </b><b>822 </b>


    <b>Next </b>up was each of the twelve captains, but none managed tost the full 20 exchanges against Carissa, They all fell short at around fifteen or sixteen exchanges.


    Max put up a decent fight, making it through 40 exchanges before he was taken down. When he stood back up and bowed, he wore a satisfied smile–he felt proud of his performance.


    Finally, it was Alistair’s turn.


    Alistair had been intently watching Carissa’s moves. He felt like he had a good grasp on her patterns. He figured he could manage 50 exchanges without much trouble. His leg techniques were his strongest suit, and Carissa’s kickscked the necessary power. On the other hand, her punches were incredibly fast. If he could focus on using his lower body, he believed he would hold the advantage.


    He bounced on his feet a few times to stretch his muscles. “I’m up.”


    Carissa wore an enigmatic smile. “Yes, it’s your turn.”


    For some reason, seeing that smile sent a shiver of unease down Alistair’s spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding some devastating technique just for him.


    “First move is yours,” Carissa offered, showing no signs of fatigue after the earlier rounds. She still looked as energized as when she had first started.


    Seeing her take a slight stance, he knew she was ready. He feinted with a punch, then kicked toward her. As his foot aimed straight at her, he quickly changed direction mid–kick, targeting her chin. He executed the maneuver swiftly.


    Most people would only block for their abdomen or chest, but Carissa read his intentions easily. She brought her elbows up, creating a solid guard in front of her. With a powerful thrust, she sent Alistair flying


    back.


    He stumbled backward, scrambling to regain his bnce. He executed a backflip mid–air andnded on his feet. But before he could steady himself, a flurry of kicks came his way. He barely had time to brace himself, dodging and evading as best he could. Carissa lunged forward with a flying kick, twisting in the air to strike again.


    With three or four consecutive kicks, Alistair felt his bnce slipping. His insides felt like they were rearranging themselves, and he stifled a groan of pain.


    This wasn’t going to work–he needed a new strategy. Gritting his teeth against the difort, he closed the distance between them, narrowing their fighting range. This way, Carissa wouldn’t be able to use her kicks effectively.


    However, in his focus on her legs, hepletely forgot about Carissa’s superior punching skills. N?velDrama.Org (C) content.


    In closebat, with no weapons involved, fists became the ultimate weapon.


    A punchnded on his chin, another struck his cheek, and a third hammered into his skull. Alistair found himself unable <i>to </i>mount any sort of counterattack–everything was happening too fast. All he could do was shield his head and endure the blows..


    Meanwhile, Violet counted off, “45, 46, 47…”


    <b>Chapter </b><b>822 </b>


    <b>As </b><b>they </b>reached the forty–eighth exchange, Carissa easily broke through his defense and raised her leg <b>high </b><b>in </b><b>a </b>swift motion. Her foot was level with her body, and she drove a kick at his chin, sending him flying backward.


    <b>It </b>was the same technique he had tried to use earlier. He had the space to execute it, but Carissa employed it at close range,bining fluidity with overwhelming power. Alistair hadn’t seen iting and crashed to the ground.


    Being unable to get up meant he had lost.


    Members of the Royal Guard helped him to his feet. Alistair gazed at Carissa, his eyes filled with a mix of resentment and disbelief.


    Both Michael and Max had managed tost over 40 exchanges against her, and while she had the upper hand, there had been a sense of back–and–forth in their fights. Even if it was hard for them, they were still trading blows.


    But for Alistair, he felt like he had simply been a punching bag. He was unable to retaliate at all.


    His martial arts skills were superior to Michael’s and Max’s, yet here he was, facing a humiliating defeat. This oue proved that Carissa had gone easy on both of them, but with him, she had delivered a thorough beating.


    At that moment, Alistair couldn’t decide whether to feel vindicated or not. After all, he had endured 48 exchanges–one more than Michael. If everyone were blind, he could im a victory over both Michael and Max. In that ridiculous scenario, his argument would hold water.


    Carissa flicked her sleeves and stepped beside Violet.


    “From now on, Violet will be your martial arts instructor. I hope you all remember to respect your teacher Though you’re not her apprentices, teaching is the same as mentorship, so you can all call her Sage Violet. She is more than capable of that.”


    A murmur rippled through the crowd.


    “But how skilled <i>is </i>she? Does she have the qualifications to teach us?”