Downing Street, like the rest of Westminster, can't hide the stale smell that comes out of its bones.

In the middle of the last century, when the London architect was ordered to rectify the collapse of the walls of Downing Street and the settlement of buildings, he accidentally discovered that the original façade of this street was originally made of yellow wall tiles, and it was only because of air pollution for 200 years that the exterior wall was blackened.

Sebastian, who acted as a temporary driver, slowly pulled over to the side of the road on Downing Street and respectfully opened the door for Leon.

The destination of this trip has arrived.

Leon was greeted by a simple black wooden door painted with white Arabic numerals 10, and two officers of the Metropolitan Police's Diplomatic Protection Unit stood outside the door, and in front of them stood the reception staff of the Prime Minister's residence.

The receptionist had already obtained today's visitor records, but was still shocked by the young Chinese youth: "You are Mr. Li Ang?" ”

"It's me."

Leon smiled and, together with Sebastian, led by the hostess, into the house, which symbolized the administrative center of the British Empire.

The space inside the room was narrow, the corridors were long, and the civil officials in suits and leather shoes walked around, maneuvering between the various offices and conference rooms, and occasionally cast a curious look at the young Chinese who entered the official residence.

Unlike what he had imagined at first, the Bloodline had not eroded 10 Downing Street, the administrative center of the United Kingdom, to the point of converting all of them to the point of being converted into a Bloodline.

This is also normal, if the hundreds of thousands of bureaucrats in Britain were blood clans, the thirteen clans would have exploded in population long ago, and the whole clan would have famine.

As a result, in Li Ang's spiritual sense, only some civil officials in key positions in No. 10 Downing Street are the real blood clan.

These clansmen numbered in the dozens, serving as Cabinet Secretary and several other permanent secretaries, rather than the higher Secretaries of the Interior, the Justice, and so on.

"Hehe, these bloodlines are worthy of being the top sorcerers who have ruled Europe for centuries."

Leon smiled noncommittally, saying that the Cabinet Secretary General and the Permanent Secretary were secretaries whose duties were to carry out the policies of the government at the time, not to participate in the activities of political parties.

In other words, in the UK, cabinet secretaries, who are responsible for implementing specific policies, are the top civilian officials, rather than politicians standing in front of the stage.

The clerks at the top of the pyramid are more like behind-the-scenes workers, each of whom has many years of administrative experience, and the city government is profound, thoughtful, meticulous and prudent, slow and methodical, and indiscreably manipulates and fools those ministers by tightening and relaxing information channels.

If Britain is like this, how can France, Germany, Italy and other European countries be spared? I am afraid that the officialdom of European countries has long become a playground for the blood elite.

Li Ang couldn't help but sigh in his heart, compared to Voldemort, who only knew how to threaten and blackmail the wizarding world with terrifying means, these old-school blood clans were more in line with the identity of the boss behind the scenes.

Elegant, reserved, graceful and luxurious, playing with power tricks lightly, manipulating the European wind and clouds lightly, and playing chess against such an opponent, there is a sense of pleasure.

Bathing in the gaze of mortals and blood elites, Leon calmly walked forward, and after turning around, he was arranged in a conference hall with a luxurious interior, sitting on a fuchsia upholstered chair, waiting to meet the female prime minister.

Fortunately, the British Empire didn't leave him to dry for long, and soon the door to the chamber was pulled open and a woman walked in.

The head of the British Empire Government, Majority Majority Leader of the House of Commons and First Chancellor, Ms. Rachel Ross, has a soft and resolute face, a gentle smile on the corner of her mouth, and a soft and firm voice.

"Mr. Leon, it's an honor to meet you."

She reached out and shook Leon's hand.

Rachel Ross looks younger than in the photo, wearing a neutral dark suit with a white shirt underneath and a ruby pendant around her slender neck, which will deflect at an angle to reflect a crystal clear light.

As Leon thought, Rachel did live up to the nickname "Raven" he had given him, and behind that face, which was so deceptive in terms of age, there was a deep soul of a gloomy owl.

Just as Leon was looking at the head of the British Empire, the other party was also looking at him.

In front of him, this excessively young Chinese young man has created a business empire from scratch from the lowest undocumented immigrant in just two years.

Today, the meme companies that creep and human civilization have absorbed all the resources of the Penguins and Kim's criminal empire, the Hellfire Club, the League of Assassins, and other dynamic social groups, and have extended their tentacles to most industries.

Agriculture, Forestry, Fishery and Animal Husbandry, Mining, Manufacturing, Electricity, Heat and Gas, Construction, Finance, Real Estate, Sports and Entertainment...

Leading companies in all walks of life are inextricably linked to meme companies, which is a kind of moisturizing and silent power, and the general public has not even reacted before the shadow of meme companies has been completely cast and enveloped them.

No one can calculate the specific revenue of this one-person company, and can only vaguely guess from the public, vague data statements.

The memetic company has completely transcended the concept of cartels, syndicates, trusts, and conzene monopolies, and has transformed into a huge form of organization that is not daring to think deeply.

In other words, the meme company created by Leon himself is only one step away from the ultimate ambition of "kidnapping all mankind", "captive all mankind", and "enslaving all mankind" that the terrorist organization Hydra has been trying to achieve in his life.

I don't know how many government departments, semi-official public research institutions, and for-profit think tanks have analyzed and studied the independent individual named "Leon" in front of them, but they have come to only one conclusion - Leon is definitely an alien.

If you are not an alien, how can you have a smooth journey, with a meteor-like hustle and bustle, casting a brilliant life trajectory?

"It's an honor to meet you, Ms. Ross."

Leon smiled mildly and withdrew his inquiring gaze.

He had come to find out the extent to which 10 Downing Street, the heart of British administration, had been eroded by the Bloods, but there was already an even more interesting research project – the prime minister herself.

If it weren't for the inappropriate time and place, he would have forcibly pressed the other party on the dissecting table and used scalpels and surgical forceps to do something embarrassing.