Ribas vigorously waved the "Declaration of Human Rights" in his hand, as if brandishing a sword: "We must let the King know, either he gives us what we want, or he will lose the whole of America!"

The library immediately erupted in a warm response, "Establish a true Congress!"

"Keep the taxes in Venezuela!"

"End the Peninsula people’s monopoly on City Hall!"

Ribas jumped down from his chair, gestured for everyone to come closer, and said in a low voice, "If we want the King to concede, we must have our own army! I need each and every one of you!"

The library instantly returned to its proper silence.

A dozen people all hung their heads, and after a while, a young teacher quietly asked, "Can you get weapons?"

Ribas shook his head, "Not yet. But we have unparalleled courage and a belief that can destroy anything! These are more powerful than any flintlock gun!"

The heads around him hung even lower.

This wasn’t their fault. Since Delaportilla was hanged, the Creoles understood that just using machetes was no match against the Governor’s army.

Especially since some of them had witnessed Delaportilla’s execution process firsthand.

Ribas encouraged them for a while, but still, no one responded.

At five in the afternoon, he walked out of the Royal and Pontifical University wearily, frowning and contemplating whether to leverage the fervor of the Vienna revolution to gather some funds from a few plantation owners and then smuggle some weapons from North America.

Just then, someone called him from behind: "Mr. Ribas, please wait a moment."

He thought it was the school’s liberal students, quickly changed to a spirited expression, and turned around: "I knew it, there must be some warriors willing to join..."

His sentence was abruptly cut off as the person had not appeared in the library before, and their face was clearly not that of a Castilian.

"And you are?"

The man gave a slight bow, "You can call me Fabio."

"Do we, know each other?" Ribas hesitated, "You seem to be from the United States?"

This Fabio was none other than Walker Bronson, the head of England’s spy network in Caracas. His Spanish no longer had any accent, but that face was difficult to fully blend in with the Creoles.

"We’ll become the best of friends." He gestured towards a nearby café, "I remember you mentioning ’having our own army’, perhaps we can discuss it over coffee."

Ribas’s pupils contracted, and he turned to flee but heard "Fabio" say, "If I wanted to capture you, wouldn’t I have arranged for people nearby?"

Ribas halted in his steps, gritted his teeth, and said, "What do you want?"

"Haha, I’m just joking." "Fabio" stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder, "Please believe me, I’m here to help you."

Before long, in the corner coffee shop "Moon Laurel Crown", "Fabio" sat by the window watching the puddles of sewage on the street, and said in a feigned manner, "Look, half a month’s tax revenue would be enough to build decent drains for the whole city, but after so many years, nothing has been done."

Ribas leaned forward, whispering, "Please speak directly. How did you know the contents of our secret meeting?"

"Fabio" responded with another question: "How many people are willing to follow you to oppose Guevara-Basconcelos?"

Guevara-Basconcelos was the governor of Venezuela’s Regency District, the highest administrative officer.

Ribas’s heart tightened, and he shook his head, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Fabio" smiled, "To show sincerity, I can share some information with you.

"There are 360 Royal Army troops stationed at Caracas Harbor, equipped with Miquelet flintlock muskets. Apart from the fortress guns, there are only four eight-pound cannons."

Fortress guns are usually only able to fire towards the sea; the lighter field guns are what are used inland.

"In the city, there are 220 regular troops, besides flintlock guns they also have dozens of pistols, but no cannons. Additionally, there are the disciplinary militia, which you should know better than I do, numbering over 500."

The so-called "disciplinary militia" was a Creole-established city security force, with all the officers being Peninsula people, and of the 500-plus members, only 92 had flintlock guns and 40 had pistols, which were locked in warehouses and not freely used.

Ribas’s eyes gradually widened, his voice trembling: "How do you know these things?"

"Fabio" continued, "If you can assemble 400 insurgents and acquire some weapons, you could control the Governor’s Mansion and the newspaper office within a day. If you move quickly enough, even the arsenal could be captured."

Ribas swallowed hard.

Truth be told, although he constantly talked about rebellion, he didn’t have any concrete plans.

The person in front of him seemed much more "professional" than he did.

He hesitated for a moment, frowning and said, "But even if we capture the Governor’s Mansion, it’s hard for us to take the port’s fortress.

"In less than half a month, the Imperial Army will come from other areas and join the harbor’s garrison to surround us...

"Moreover, we have no weapons."

"That’s why you need my help." "Fabio" gestured with his coffee cup, "For example, providing you with some flintlock guns, and after you’ve taken control of the city, arranging for warships to break through the port’s fortress. Naturally, this would require your cooperation from the southern side of the harbor."

"Who, who exactly are you?"

"A devotee of freedom and equality. And someone who strongly wishes for all Creoles to also obtain freedom and equality."

...

October 7, 1801.

As Venezuela entered the dry season, those spine-chilling downpours finally ceased to appear, the land entered the "golden period" favored by the officers.

North of Caracas in the eastern Caribbean Sea, the sails of the British Caribbean Fleet’s fourth-level battleship "Admiral Fredris" billowed as it sliced through the sea headed southwest.

In the operation conference room, Marine Commander Lieutenant Colonel Parker looked out the porthole at the accompanying warships and couldn’t help but frown, complaining to Division Commander Colonel Beresford:

"I really don’t understand, since Caracas is the main offensive direction, why send the ’Thunder’, ’Carnatic’, and them all to Maracaibo?

"To deal with those coastal defense cannons, we should at least be assigned two third-class ships!"

The British Caribbean Fleet had 4 third-class battleships, 6 fourth-level ships, and for this raid operation, their fleet division was only given 3 fourth-level ships and a few escort ships.

Colonel Beresford took a sip of tea and smiled, "Relax, my friend. Please trust me, there is no risk in this operation.

"In fact, by the time we arrive in Caracas, the fort’s guns may have already been cleared."