Defying Fate: The Unstoppable Eileen novel Chapter 274

In the heart of a bustling online streaming platform, chaos had erupted.

[OMG OMG OMG! Is this for real or are we in a movie here?]

[I know it's messed up, but I gotta shout out - Eileen, you rock star!]

[Are you guys serious? Isn't she just poking the bear here?]

[Seriously, on their turf, taunting them? How is that a good idea?]

The menacing muzzle of a black gun held the room at bay.

Eileen, with a smirk, met the gaze of the rebel leader. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Egbert perched in the ventilation shaft.

Egbert's shot, her moment to flip the script, was a desperate move.

This rebel leader was too impulsive; they had to bluff him, or bloodshed would soon follow.

The government troops would never surrender. That was certain. What kind of government would bow to rebels?

Would you, as a leader, submit to a band of renegades just to spare foreign civilians? That would be insane.

The troops weren't saints reincarnated. They wouldn't hand over power and grovel before their enemies just to protect strangers. So the government troops would definitely not surrender.

But if they didn't, it would infuriate this not-so-bright rebel leader.

Upon hearing "no surrender," he became as restless as a caged rooster, even starting a live broadcast. Dude, you're not just staging a coup anymore—this is international terrorism!

Eileen couldn't let this fool run amok.

Egbert's shot and her countermove were just to gain the upper hand, to negotiate properly with the rebel leader.

Don't ask why she's playing the solo hero. If not the future Crestonian War Goddess, then who?

Right, even before military school, Eileen saw herself as Crestonia's future War Goddess.

That's her confidence. Try talking her out of it—I dare you.

The room fell silent once again.

Eileen pressed the barrel of the machine gun to the forehead of the rebel leader, who was sweating profusely, and said icily, "Uncomfortable yet?"

The rebel leader frowned at her.

Then Eileen proposed, “Talk with me?”

"Talk?" he grunted.

Eileen glanced at his wrist and said dismissively, "Don't act like it's a big deal. It's just a scratch, barely broke the skin."

The leader's hand dropped from the wound—a mere scratch, the bullet hadn't penetrated. Nonetheless, the pain was as excruciating as hell.

Clutching his wrist, he asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

Eileen surveyed the room. Countless people—different races, skin colors—all stranded innocently due to a storm, now unwilling participants in this drama. And no one wanted to die.

"We can wait with you," Eileen proposed, "until the government negotiates. But no more stunts like before. You can't harm anyone else. We're not your punching bags, not targets for your guns."

The rebel leader snorted and waved his hand dismissively, "Negotiate with you? Look at how many men I have!"

"Do your men not have families?" Eileen shot back coolly.

Her gaze swept over the armed rebels and narrowed, then she said icily, "If you kill foreigners, there's no going back. Even if you succeed, to quell international outrage, you'll have to sacrifice your men, one by one."

The rebel leader hesitated, as did his men.

From the ventilation shaft, Egbert aimed his gun directly at the rebel leader's forehead.