Chapter 822 +25 BONUS

Next up were the twelve captains, but none lasted the full twenty exchanges against Carissa. They all fell short, around fifteen or sixteen exchanges.

Max put up a decent fight, lasting forty exchanges before falling. He stood up, bowed, and wore a satisfied smile; he was proud of his performance.

Finally, it was Alistair's turn. He had intently watched Carissa's moves, believing he understood her patterns. He figured he could manage fifty exchanges easily. His leg techniques were his strongest asset, and Carissa's kicks lacked power. However, her punches were incredibly fast. By focusing on his lower body, he believed he held the advantage.

He bounced on his feet, stretching. "I'm up."

Carissa offered an enigmatic smile. "Yes, it's your turn."

That smile sent a shiver of unease down Alistair's spine. He felt she was hiding a devastating technique specifically for him.

"First move is yours," Carissa offered, showing no fatigue. She looked as energized as at the start.

Seeing her stance, he knew she was ready. He feinted a punch, then kicked toward her, quickly changing direction mid-kick to target her chin. He executed the maneuver swiftly.

Most people would block their abdomen or chest, but Carissa easily read his intentions. She raised her elbows, creating a solid guard. With a powerful thrust, she sent Alistair flying backward.

He stumbled, scrambling to regain his balance, executing a backflip and landing on his feet. But before he could steady himself, a flurry of kicks came. He dodged and evaded as best he could. Carissa lunged forward with a flying kick, twisting in the air to strike again.

After three or four consecutive kicks, Alistair felt his balance slipping. His insides felt like they were rearranging themselves, and he stifled a groan.

This wouldn't work—he needed a new strategy. Gritting his teeth, he closed the distance, narrowing the fighting range. This would hinder Carissa's kicks.

However, focused on her legs, he forgot about Carissa's superior punching skills. In close combat, without weapons, fists were the ultimate weapon.

A punch landed on his chin, another on his cheek, and a third on his skull. Alistair couldn't mount a counterattack—everything was happening too fast. He could only shield his head and endure the blows.

Meanwhile, Violet counted, "45, 46, 47…"

Chapter 822 +25 BONUS

Reaching the forty-eighth exchange, Carissa easily broke through his defense and raised her leg high in a swift motion. Her foot was level with her body as she drove a kick at his chin, sending him flying backward. It was the same technique he had tried earlier, but Carissa used it at close range, combining fluidity and overwhelming power. Alistair hadn't seen it coming and crashed to the ground. His inability 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 resentment and disbelief.

Michael and Max had lasted over forty exchanges. While Carissa had the upper hand, their fights had been more back-and-forth. Even if difficult, they had traded blows. But Alistair felt like a punching bag, unable to retaliate.

His martial arts skills surpassed Michael's and Max's, yet he faced humiliating defeat. This proved Carissa had gone easy on them, but not on him.

Alistair couldn't decide whether to feel vindicated. He had endured forty-eight exchanges—one more than Michael. If everyone were blind, he could claim victory over Michael and Max. In that absurd scenario, his argument would hold water.

Carissa flicked her sleeves and stepped beside Violet.

"From now on, Violet will be your martial arts instructor. Remember to respect your teacher. Though you're not her apprentices, teaching is like mentorship, so call her Sage Violet. She is more than capable."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"But how skilled is she? Does she have the qualifications to teach us?"