Drones hovering over London are still hovering, faithfully conveying the image.

The city has been ruled by chaos and turned into a terra nullius.

The crowd shouted all kinds of slogans, broke through the gates of mansions, villas, and hotels, dragged dignitaries out of the houses, and forced these "big men" to kneel side by side in the middle of the road, like dead pigs.

Bloodlines, werewolves, bureaucrats, lawyers, capitalists, media tycoons....

These big men of the British Isles wept and kowtowed to beg for mercy, but no matter what they did or said, the fanatical populace didn't care, just smirked and wrapped the rope around their necks.

Maybe it's because people are dying and their words are good, or maybe it's simply because they're afraid of death, some powerful people see a lot more before they die, and they can even leave a dying prayer for themselves as decently as possible.

"And all the blame for me has nothing to do with me, and may my blood make the happiness of the British stronger."

"I forgive those who bring me bad luck."

"Freedom, how many sins have been done in your name."

Unfortunately, just like Louis XVI on the guillotine, the calm and relaxed posture of these British magnates did not prevent the arrival of a predetermined destiny - after all, reality is not a script, and laughing three times before dying cannot make the enemy pause the act of killing him.

Hanging, hanging, hanging.

Soon, the street lamps in the streets of London were covered with dead bodies, fluttering in the wind like flags.

Inside the underground fortifications, there was a dead silence.

"Untouchables, damn untouchables!"

Sir Humphrey Applebier trembled and roared at the screen, surging blood flowing around him like a whirlpool, but no one dared to step forward to warn him, for fear that Sir would be angry and accidentally cause friendly damage.

"Don't they know? It was we who provided the British Empire with the template for a capitalist republic; It was we who made the absolute monarchy of the British Isles a thing of the past. If it weren't for our Bloodline, these untouchables would still be digging in the fields! ”

Sir Applebir looked at the dead compatriots on the screen, and only felt that the plasma in his veins was about to coagulate, "It is our blood that provides the system of freedom and democracy, and the two industrial revolutions of modern times, and they are not grateful, and even repay us with a noose, these damn untouchables....."

The permanent secretary of the British Empire Cabinet roared resentfully, and only then did he reluctantly suppress his grief and indignation and think of countermeasures.

Eight million London residents are obviously not something that a sparse number of Bloods can fight, and even if the Bloods were really ruthless and bombed the center of London with weapons of mass destruction, the result would definitely end in the defeat of the Bloods.

"The reason why the Bloodline can climb to the top is because of the hidden nature of its existence. This time the news of the Bloodline has become known to eight million Londoners, and any attempt to block the leak of information is unrealistic.

Strategically, we have lost. ”

Sir Humphrey Applebir regained his composure and said indifferently: "After this turmoil, the whole world will know about the Bloodline, and we will no longer be able to maintain our secret status, and we will inevitably lose some of our original authority, and even lose all of our basic disks.

Now we can only do the only way to stop loss. ”

He jerked his head up and said to the other Bloods in the underground fortifications, "Call Hydra, aren't they trying to carry out Operation Sea Lion for the second time?" Let the lunatics of Hydra fight against the eight million inhabitants of London. ”

All the people present at the underground fortifications are highly educated intellectuals, not to mention knowing astronomy and geography, at least there is no problem with Bogu Tongjin, and they naturally know what the sea lion project is.

In July 1940, shortly after the start of World War II, in order to conquer the British Isles, the head of the German Third Reich ordered the commander of the Luftwaffe to issue an operational plan, concentrating three air force groups, more than 2,000 combat aircraft, 13 divisions, and thousands of ships to engage the British army over the English Channel.

The British army, who did not have the advantage of numbers, barely managed to hold on to the situation and, with the help of the Führer's strategic mistakes, dragged the Germans into a war of attrition in which they bombed each other's capitals, thus gaining respite, and finally ending the Sea Lion project.

With the Sea Lion Project mentioned by Sir Humphrey Applebier, and the word Hydra, the quick-thinking Bloods and human bureaucrats immediately guessed what was going on.

"What?!"

One of the Bloodlines questioned, "Sir, you're going to get the Nazis to London?" ”

"That's right." Ser Applebir nodded, and said indifferently, "Doesn't that Lord Leon like to see the world burned? Then make the fire a little more intense.

The Hydra invasion would give us an excuse to bomb the centre of London. This will not only wipe out the inhabitants of London in a state of riot, but also protect our fellow citizens.

Crucially, the Hydra have more than enough appetite to burn war to every part of Europe.

Such a chaotic and anarchic Europe is suitable for our blood clan to recuperate. ”

Sir Applebir quickly persuaded the other Bloods to assist him in transferring the magnates in the underground fortifications, applying to the Bloods, contacting the Bloodline generals in the British Army and Air Force, and abandoning the armed guard near the Channel of Great Britain.

——————

Scarlet blood flowed down the cracks in the masonry, across the streets, down the iron fence into the sewers, and into the River Thames, where it stained the river red and smelled like purgatory.

Leon wandered casually along the stone pavement along the banks of the Thames, casually sniffing the burning smell in the air.

He walked through Grimmauld Square, where the Order of the Phoenix is located, and King Cross Street, where Diagon Alley is located, and found that all the doors to the wizarding world were sealed.

These wizards still adhere to the principle of "non-interference in the Muggle world" and want to stay out of this chaos.

"Isolationism with the characteristics of the British Empire."

Leon pursed his lips noncommittally and continued to walk forward.

He went to the museum where the Mage Alliance was located, and found that the door was also closed, and not even a glimmer of light was revealed—it was clear that the mages were also trying to help each other.

"Another turtle with a shrunken head."

Leon grinned and turned to leave.

As he walked on, he was surrounded by fanatical people with torches—Londoners dousing gasoline on the corpses of the Bloods to make the flames even stronger.

Suddenly, the moonlight suddenly dimmed.

People with torches and oil drums looked up, and all they could see was the outline of some huge object faintly revealing in the gloomy clouds.

Airships, dozens, hundreds of cigar-shaped airships sprayed with swastikas, sailed out of the clouds and soared over London.