Silver Hand Manor.

A blue flame burned in the fireplace, and Watson stepped out of it and patted the ash on his head.

Behind him, Mycroft had a look of surprise on his face.

"Welcome to Silverhand Manor, Mr. Mycrof."

Tang Mi walked over with a smile.

Mycroft glanced at Don Mi, and soon he was sure that this was not the person he was looking for.

Sure enough, Tang Mi looked at Watson and said respectfully, "Please come with me, Mr. Wick."

Watson had no doubt that he had him, after all, he had also seen this subordinate of his own son.

The two of them walked out of Silverhand Manor, where Mycroft was alone, and he said aloud, "If you want to sell off here, I can only tell you that you have the wrong idea."

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to sell it."

The voice came from the left.

McCroft looked for prestige, and on the stairs on the left, a room was open.

He walked up the stairs.

This place was not much different from the mansions of the upper class that he went into.

A black owl stood there, its head tilted, looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft paused for a moment and walked back to the room.

It's a study.

Dozens of books suspended in the air flipped around, and in the middle of those books was a young face.

"If you don't mind, you can watch with me."

John gave the invitation, and Mycroft thought for three seconds before stepping into the book-enclosed circle.

He saw that the books were really changing, numbers and lines.

From there, Mycroft saw several familiar names.

"Elinor Duru."

"Lawson Julian."

"Matthew Meelu."

These names are from some officials of the government and military districts.

"Can I understand that you are spying on them?"

"Yes." John nodded unabashedly, "I'm spying on them."

"And they're not the only ones."

John raised his hand and brushed it, and the book in front of him was like a giant wheel, spinning in the other direction.

A new batch of names appeared, and those names were extremely unfamiliar to ordinary people, but to Mycroft, they were also instantly recognizable.

That's a batch of names from outside the UK.

The man in front of him is not only spying on officials in his own country, but also in places outside the country.

There were also unfamiliar names, and those people were not Muggles.

John snapped his fingers, and the books spread out into pieces of parchment, spliced together into a giant map, floating in front of him.

"Great Britain, Germany, France, United States, Poland, Turkey."

He randomly pointed to a red dot on the map, which was in New York City, USA.

"There was also a weapons theft here, and they didn't know anything about it," he said calmly.

"But the truth is," said Mycroft, "it was the wizard's doing."

"Yes, it's not." John waved his hand, and the huge map began to fold up, eventually turning into a piece of parchment no larger than the size of his palm.

John folded it up casually and put it in his pocket, he looked at Mycroft and said, "I don't think we've met for the first time, Mr. Mycroft."

"What shall I call you?" Mycroft stared at John, "Should I call you John Wick, or something else?"

"Why do you think I have another name?" John was surprised.

"Watson Wick," McCroft said dissatisfied, "you disguised yourself as his child, supported him in the vast power of the Muggle world, and you want him to be your spokesman?"

Mycroft's brain was racing, and he analyzed, "It's not impossible for wizards to stay young."

"Hopkins serves you, and your current appearance is just a cover."

"You're overthinking."

After listening to McCroft's analysis, John felt speechless for a while.

Do smart people like brain supplements?

"My name is John Wick, and I'm Watson Wick's son." John said lightly, "At the same time, I am also the one who can negotiate with you on behalf of the wizarding world."

There was distrust in McCroft's eyes, "Are you trying to tell me you're eighteen?"

"Almost." John shrugged, "Don't be surprised, there is magic in this world, why can't Watson Wick's son represent the wizarding world?"

Reasonable.

The wariness in McCroft's eyes continued as he looked at the bookshelf, "You want to negotiate with me?"

"I think you might be a so-called wizarding genius, but from what I can see, Watson is not a wizard."

"You treat wizards as non-humans." John shook his head and said, "You're wrong."

Mycroft turned his gaze, "Oh?"

"This needs to start with the birth of a wizard." John snapped his fingers.

A chair appeared behind Mycroft, and John invited him to sit down.

"In the world of magic, wizards are divided into three categories." John held up three fingers and said, "Pure-blood, half-blood, Muggle-born."

"The so-called pure-blooded means that the ancestors are all composed of wizards."

"And the half-blood, one of the parents is a wizard, and the other is an ordinary person like you."

"Muggles, wizards call non-magical people who can't use magic."

"A Muggle-born wizard, as the name suggests, is that the man's parents are ordinary people and not wizards."

At this point, John pointed to himself and said, "And I'm a Muggle-born wizard."

"In the wizarding world, there are many wizards like me."

Mycroft listened intently, and he asked, "Are you trying to say that you grew up in the same environment as me?"

"That's right." It's easy to talk to smart people, John tapped his finger, and a mist rose into a magnificent school scene.

"In the wizarding world, there are schools of magic, and when a person with a talent for magic grows up to the age of eleven, he or she will receive an admission letter from these schools."

John laughed, "I didn't even know I was a wizard until I received the notice."

"Before that, everything I received was British education, British culture, British customs."

"Tell me, Mycrof," a gleam flashed in John's eyes, "are we of the same people?"

The environment determines the location, and if it's a group of people who grew up in the UK, is it any different from the locals?

Mycroft crossed his fingers on his knees, and his eyes lit up with a thoughtful look.

"We are people of one nation, Mycroft." John said, "We are not enemies."

"Just as every country has some delirious madmen, the world of magic has some radical people."

"Wizards and Muggles, we can't part with each other," John said, shaking his head, "I chose to meet you so that you can see the sincerity of belonging to the wizarding world."

He looked at Mycroft deeply, "It's all right."

"Are you all right?" McCroft smiled, "Do you think it's possible?"

"I admit your mystical abilities, but you should know that there should be no two governments in a country." "Which world should wizards obey, magic, or us?"

Contradictions have always existed.

"I haven't heard of a wizard who went to the police station to report a crime." McCroft said.

"Our world is too close," John raised an eyebrow, "you should see what we're capable of."

"With all due respect, your abilities are mysterious," Mycroft smiled confidently, "but we're even stronger."

"Yes, but," John

chuckled, "But there's more than one country, isn't it?"

Mycroft's originally confident expression became gloomy in an instant.

John said lightly, "I believe that there will always be some countries that are willing to cooperate with me."

"The contradiction between wizards and ordinary people is far less great than the contradiction between countries."

John smiled, but McCroft had to think about the threat contained in the sentence.

Wizards' abilities, though unable to inflict the same amount of damage as thermal weapons.

But they have the ability to come and go in the blocked area at will, if this ability cooperates with other countries.

So do those countries that don't recognize wizards mean that they have to be on guard against such a group of people at any time?

Among them, it is not a matter of saying anything cleanly.

Mycroft needs to be cautious.

He looked at John and asked, "What do you want?"

"Nothing, just keep staying in the wizarding world," John shrugged, "and honestly, we don't want to be involved in your business, except for some crazy people."

"It's a crisis in the wizarding world, but it's also a crisis for you."

John said, "You have also found out that some people want to use the power of wizards to stir up some turmoil in the country."

"Now there's a chance, we just need your cooperation, and we'll deal with those guys." John smiled, "And we can do some collaboration."

"Cooperation?"

McCroft pondered.

"You really represent the wizarding world?" He asked again, needing an accurate answer.

John said; "Of course."

Wizards are also born among ordinary people, and what McCroft had thought about before was that these people were alienated from ordinary people.

But now it seems that they may be just like themselves, but they have some extraordinary talents.

Those who are not of my race will have different hearts.

But if that's the case, it's not impossible.

...