"Understood." MacLaine nodded, a trace of agreement flashing in his eyes. This is a soft blade, more effective than hard repression.

"Others, reinforce 'ideological education'." McTavish added, "Organize them to visit Mexico and see how their army uses high-tech, how the treatment is. Then look at those cow dung in Delhi. Let them compare for themselves whether to follow a future that can create a 'Phoenix Nest', or return to a past where even sports events are turned into slaughterhouses."

Callum chuckled: "That's a clever move. By the way, Sarah Kent from the English Congress has sent a message through the Middleman, hoping to have 'informal exchanges' with you to discuss the experience of 'regional autonomy and people's empowerment'."

McTavish raised an eyebrow: "England's 'Gravedigger' wants to learn from us? Interesting. Can contact, but keep a distance. We support all 'national self-determination', but do not directly intervene in England's internal affairs, that's what Mexicans like to do. We can provide... 'moral support' and 'theoretical references'. Meanwhile, casually let her know some of the benefits London promised us. Let her and her followers know that being tough and independent comes with tangible benefits."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the outline of Edinburgh Castle outside. The sunset gilded the ancient stone walls, but flying above the castle was the blue and white cross flag.

"The farce in Delhi accelerated too many things." McTavish slowly said, "The fig leaf of the old world has been completely torn off, exposing not only India's backside but also London's ulcers. Now, everyone sees it clearly."

He turned around and looked at Callum and MacLaine: "Our opportunity has arrived, but it's also the most dangerous time. London will fight back in more insidious ways. England may become more chaotic, chaotic enough to affect us. Those neighbors in Europe, watching us getting too close to Mexico, will also talk. Not a single step can be wrong."

"What about weapons and training?" MacLaine asked, "The batch of equipment and advisors Mexico agreed to 'sell on credit'."

"Take it all." McTavish said firmly, "Especially anti-aircraft and anti-ship missiles, prioritize deployment along the North Sea coast and major cities. Tell the brothers, good days haven't come yet, the knife must still be held tight. However..."

He rarely pulled a subtle, almost invisible smile at the corner of his mouth:

"The hand holding the knife can relax a bit now. Because from now on, we not only have a knife, but also... a castle of our own. Although still a bit shabby, it can finally shelter us from wind and rain, allowing us to slowly forge a sharper sword." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

On the same day, in England, Birmingham, in a community church basement

This place feels less like a power center, more like the busy headquarters of a grassroots NGO. The air is filled with the scent of old books, coffee, and cheap printer toner. The walls are covered with hand-drawn community maps, lists of needs, event schedules, and that famous 'Charter' poster.

Sarah Kent rubbed her red eyes; she had just held a meeting with several worker representatives from Liverpool, discussing how to respond to a local factory's sudden announcement of moving to Wales, causing a crisis of unemployment. On the table laid a half-eaten sandwich and cold tea.

"Sarah, there's feedback from London."

Hydra's Allen walked in, with a restrained excitement on his face, "Crabben, the Foreign Minister, wants to secretly meet you. The location can be set by us, as soon as possible."

The other core members in the basement, old miners' union leader Tom, university lecturer David, nurse colleague Liz looked over, with various expressions.

"Finally can't sit still."

Tom snorted, his tone complex, with both pride and caution, "The Delhi incident peeled off their last layer of skin. Now they're afraid the fire will spread to Downing Street?"

"Meet them?" Liz asked, more practical, "If we meet, what do we say? They certainly want to divide us, buy us off, or delay."

Sarah was silent, her fingers unconsciously tapping on the Charter on the table.

She thought of the scenes she saw at the 'Phoenix Nest' in Mexico City, such orderly and vigorous confidence; thought of the chaos and death from Delhi, nauseating; thought of the endless crowd in Hyde Park, those tired yet hopeful faces.

She also recalled an encrypted message received last night from an 'anonymous friend' in Scotland, briefly mentioning London might soon make significant concessions to Scotland on finance and autonomy, with a note: "Your persistence has payoffs. The key is to make clear, what you demand is not just negotiation, but the reconstruction of national power."

"Meet."

Sarah finally spoke, her voice a bit hoarse but very firm, "Why not meet? Them coming to find us means we're right, means the power we hold they have to face. But how to meet, where to meet, what to say when we meet, we decide."

She looked at Allen: "Respond to them, the meeting can happen. Location in Birmingham, specific site we decide, notify one hour in advance. Crabben must come alone, no guards, no recording devices. From our side, I'll go, Allen accompanying, plus two ordinary representatives selected by the community—an unemployed auto worker and a single mother. Let the lords in London see whom they're going to talk to."

"And the conditions?" David asked, "What do we negotiate on?"

"No specific terms, no deals." Sarah's gaze turned sharp, "Discuss principles, discuss frameworks. First, must recognize the English Congress as the legitimate representative of the English people's will. Second, must pledge to initiate a truly English Parliament election process decided by national referendum and formulate a written constitution. Third, during the transition period, must suspend all harassment law enforcement against assemblies and organizers, granting local communities pilot autonomy in medical, education, and social welfare fields."