As midnight approaches, Constantine and Harry Potter walk down the street.

Both were wearing V-shaped Vendetta uniforms and the ceramic mask. The only difference was that Constantine was still smoking the cigarette that never left.

"Months of waiting and preparation finally ushered in the dawn."

Constantine spit out a cloud of smoke and looked at the closed apartments on the street, the dark and dark rooms of residents, and said indifferently: "Potter, do you know? In the school city, our faculty and staff all need to take ideological and political education classes."

"Um?"

Harry was a little confused, "You American supers need to learn this kind of thing? I thought you just need to learn directional blasting, infiltrating assassination, and infiltrating and destroying these contents."

"First, I'm a purebred British, and the United States is just my place of work."

Constantine curled her lips without comment and said calmly: "Secondly, the ruling classes in European and American countries have always used the so-called 'quality education' and 'happy education' to poison our education cause, and have completely eroded our cognition of ideology and politics by liberalism. As a result, a large group of Beatles or white leftists have been cultivated.

In order to make the faculty and staff of the school city and tens of millions of students become ideal, moral, cultural and disciplined people in the new era, Mr. Li Ang specially introduced ideological and political education courses with oriental characteristics, so that we can have an objective understanding of modern and modern history."

"Ah...well."

Harry Potter nodded with a stern face. Fortunately, there was a ceramic mask as a barrier, so Constantine did not see his confused expression.

Fortunately, Constantine didn't care. He coughed and said calmly: "Mr. Li Ang told us that the people are a historical category, referring to those who have played a role in social history.

Furthermore, the people are the main body of practice, the creators of history, and the working masses and labor intellectuals engaged in the production of material materials and spiritual wealth."

Constantine stopped and said with a smile: "Do you think the people are great?"

Harry nodded and said, "Great."

"Yes, the people have the ability to change the world, but when they have a way out and can endure, they are often cowardly, humble, and numb."

Constantine stretched out her finger and pointed at the residential buildings hidden in the darkness, and whispered: "In the process of struggle, the people always think about who wins and who helps, but they don't know who helps who wins."

"But winning comes at a price." Harry whispered: "They may not necessarily see the beauty of the revolutionary achievements, but they can see the pain of the price."

As if in response to what Harry said, armored vehicles carrying armed soldiers came from the street corner.

The soldiers with live ammunition were sitting on both sides of the carriage, and the loudspeaker of the dark green vehicle ceiling repeated mechanical shouts: "Friends of the British Empire, the Curfew Act exists to protect us.

Tonight, anyone who protests, incites, or delusions will be directly arrested and face trial.

The trial is decisive, decisive and efficient. In the face of national interests, we need to put aside past disputes and look forward in unity..."

Unfortunately, the sound of the horn gradually faded as the taillights disappeared from the street corner.

Harry Potter stared at the back of the armed vehicle, and said arduously: "The tragic level of this price is likely to be beyond our expectations, Mr. Constantine."

"There has never been a savior, nor a god or emperor. For the people who do not have extraordinary power or gold fingers, the price must be paid - after all, the fruit of revolution will never fall from the sky."

Constantine interrupted the young wizard and said indifferently: "It's just that those borers who do not participate in the production of material materials and spiritual wealth are not in the great category of the people.

The blood clan is this kind of borer.

They lived on the top of human society, pierced the skin with their narrow mouthparts, and drank blood with greed and eagerness.

Playing political power and controlling the authority of the state machine, as time goes by, these borers who are close to the center of power mistakenly believe that they have become power itself.

They were wrong, and power was always in the hands of the seemingly cowardly, helpless, humble and lowly general public."

Constantine lowered her eyes, shook off the ashes, and the embers emitting faint red light melted into the sewage in the cracks of bricks and rocks.

"We are ready to tear the bloody wounds apart and reveal the cruel and terrifying truth to the people."

Harry looked at the dead houses, feeling a little confused and sad, and said with difficulty: "But they did not move, Mr. Constantine."

“…”

Constantine remained silent, and he looked around and there were only the two of them on the empty street.

Introverted, lonely.

There was no response, no one was crowded with people, just the cool breeze on the street.

"We failed?" Harry asked softly.

Constantine did not answer, but just raised her head and looked at the sparse full moon shrouded in dark clouds.

Harry Potter swallowed, lifted his cuffs and looked at his watch, shook his head, "It's 11:45 now, they won't come."

Constantine still didn't answer. Something seemed to be soaked in his haggard pupils, and it seemed warm and peaceful.

A sense of frustration swept through Harry, the young wizard gritted his teeth and stared at the silent city, "I don't blame them, Mr. Constantine, I have seen the cruel truth with my own eyes and know how much courage it takes to overcome this hurdle."

He paused.

"The people have stupid rights." Harry repeated, trying to remove his mask sadly and desolately, "We failed."

"etc."

Constantine pinched his wrist and said, "Listen."

Harry frowned and listened.

The song, the distant and ethereal song.

".....get up, a hungry and cold slave."

"Arise, the suffering people all over the world."

Harry widened his eyes, "Internationale, this is the Internationale."

How is that possible? Since the emergency broadcast system in London was held hostage that day, Prime Minister Ross has ordered the removal of all radios and reinforced all television signals. Where did the singing come from?

Harry couldn't help but run forward. He crossed the streets and swung his wand before he was about to hit the tower, releasing his witchcraft and letting himself float in the air.

He saw the direction of the music.

It was Whitehall, a Whitehall guarded by countless armies.

Li Ang, wearing a V-shaped Vendetta uniform, stood in front of the Capitol. He had brought in a huge searchlight and placed it in front of him, allowing the light to shine on him, casting the human-shaped shadow on the wall of the Westminster Palace.

The huge shadow was holding the microphone and singing with emotion.

"The blood is full of passion, and we must fight for the truth!"

"The old world is full of flowers and water, and the slaves get up, get up!"

The army, which was in chaos, immediately maintained order under the general's roar, turned the guns and sprayed flames at Li Ang in front of the searchlight.

It is useless. The bullet cannot penetrate the barrier that Li Ang can easily release. The copper bullets deprived of potential energy can only fall to the ground and gather into a brass river.

"...This is the final struggle, unite until tomorrow."

The gunshots as accompaniment could not stop Li Ang from using the Ethernet network to sprinkle songs to every corner of London. He motivated his mouth and rendered the notes into the brightest red.

Constantine raised a smile on her lips, and he raised his arm and fell heavily, like a musician directing a symphony orchestra on the international stage.

"We must regain the fruits of labor, let our thoughts break through the cage, and quickly burn the fire to the red, and strike the iron while it is hot to succeed."

"Who created the human world, is our working people. Everything belongs to the workers, and how can we tolerate parasites?"

Harry Potter saw it, and he saw the lights of every household light up one by one, and countless people poked their heads out of the windows and looked in the direction where the song came.

They could hear the tragic gunfire and the summons of the songs.

The expressions of hesitation and struggle swayed on their faces, and Harry in the sky clenched his fists, and his sharp nails were deeply chiseled into the flesh.

However, the windows were closed in the end.

Harry lowered his head, choked, and released the witchcraft to let himself fall slowly.

"We failed..." he turned to Constantine.

"No, we succeeded." Constantine said to him.

The footsteps sounded from slight to loud.

Harry stared at the countless faces emerging from the dark streets, and the London residents wore ceramic masks and heads, appeared from the darkness.

Among them are parents who have been taken away by the blood clan, victims who have been hurt by Middle Eastern refugees, cynical independent young people, and thin elderly people with inconvenience in legs and feet.

They have their own life trajectory and their own story - no matter whether the story is unremarkable or boring, their unique attributes cannot be deprived of.

At this moment, they took the initiative to give up their own personal attributes and completely integrate themselves into the broad definition of "collective".

To be honest, to be free, to be fair!

They are the people, and the people are invincible.

Harry and Constantine quickly integrated into the crowd, surrounded by crowds and headed towards the Capitol.
Chapter completed!