Chapter 14: Having a Goal Gives You the Courage to Live

A teenager of eighteen or nineteen is legally about to become an adult, but psychologically still not mature enough.

Erwin felt deeply wronged.

Everything was fine at home until war suddenly broke out; to prevent him from being sent to the battlefield and dying pointlessly, his family sold their house to raise money and sent him to the Federation.

He had thought this was a journey of growth, since all the rumors he’d heard about the Federation back in the Empire were positive and beautiful.

For instance, the air was sweet, donuts were delicious, people handed out free food and clothing on the streets, and even if you had no money, hospitals would still treat you...

There were so many positive rumors about the Federation that almost everyone before arriving imagined their life there would be full of hope and fantasy.

But once he arrived, everything turned terrible.

The air reeked of horse manure, unburned engine oil, and car exhaust.

People weren’t friendly at all—everyone was greedy, bitter, and looked at him as if he were trash.

He hadn’t smelled sweet air, nor tasted whether donuts were truly delicious.

It felt as if the entire world was targeting him, even after he endured their exploitation, oppression, and humiliation!

Xianzai ， Talianbeiboxue ， Beiyazhadejihuidoubeiboduole ， Nazhongweiqu ， Zenghen ， Yane ， Yishijianquandoufanyongleshanglai 。

Erwin wasn’t someone who easily showed his emotions outwardly, unlike Ethan.

Ethan was direct—he wore his happiness and unhappiness on his face and would even talk about them openly.

He was different; he kept everything inside.

But sometimes, when too much is buried, there’s no more room left for further suffering.

Seeing Erwin struggle to hold back tears, Lance pulled him into a tight embrace: “It’ll all pass, Erwin. Everything will get better.”

“First, we need to treat your wounds—if they get infected, it’ll be a nightmare.”

“As for everything else, I’ll figure it out.”

Soon he met his friends hiding in the alley; most of them were injured, but luckily none had broken bones.

That was already the best outcome under the circumstances!

Lance had heard from an old man on this street that last year, his leg had broken; he waited two weeks before seeing a doctor, who told him the fracture had already begun healing crookedly.

He had two choices—

One: break the partially healed bone again and properly reset it with a cast and wheelchair.

The whole process would cost about 2,500 credits, but the old man only had 27 credits of disposable income per month.

Two: undergo a simple realignment, but he’d walk with a permanent limp, and without intervention, deformity was inevitable.

The doctor could apply a cast to see if correction was possible, but offered no guarantee—for which he’d need to pay 370 credits.

In the end, after paying 40 credits for the consultation, he went home without doing anything.

He fashioned two copper pipes and, with help from an old friend, forcibly straightened the healing bone and secured it with a splint.

Now he walks with a slight limp, but unless you stare closely, it’s barely noticeable.

If any of his friends had broken a bone, they’d likely be permanently disabled—but thankfully, no one had.

Lance took them to a pharmacy on the street, but it was closed, with a metal gate blocking entry.

Nights in Jin Gang City were unsafe; pharmacies were far more likely to be robbed than other shops.

Everyone knew medicine was valuable.

“We need some medicine.”

A cautious voice came from inside: “What do you need?”

“Gauze, bandages, alcohol, preferably some antibiotics, and some sutures—how many needles per pack?”

“Ten.”

“Then two packs.”

The night clerk quickly prepared everything, packed it into a leather bag right in front of Lance through the gate: “Normally it’s 21.15 credits, but I’ll take 21.”

Lance thanked him and handed over the money first—he’d used his own funds instead of waiting to pay the financial company later.

Then the man handed the bag out.

Some people wandered in the darkness, but since Lance’s group was large and looked like they’d just been in a fight, they didn’t dare move without knowing who they were.

Lance glanced around and lowered his voice: “Let’s get out of here...”

The Federation government controls the city until 8 p.m.; after that, gangs rule.

To avoid misunderstandings, it’s best not to wander the streets at night with a large group.

They found an alley, and under the streetlamp, Lance helped clean their wounds.

At this moment, morale was low; everyone seemed to have lost the drive and passion they once had when talking about their dreams.

He knew this couldn’t continue, so as he stitched the trembling Merro’s wound, he asked, “Have you seen the people who attacked you?”

Perhaps this topic caught their attention—the atmosphere improved slightly.

One of the friends spoke up: “I recognized one of them—he’s been to the port several times, but I don’t know what he does.”

In the dim light, pairs of eyes reflecting the lamp’s glow all fixed on Lance, as if waiting for something.

Lance tugged the thread—Merro trembled violently from the pain!

A freshly snapped branch clenched between his teeth was chewed to shreds, its bitter sap filling his mouth, yet it couldn’t match even a fraction of his agony.

Even so, this usually quiet and reserved boy looked at Lance with fire in his eyes!

“We can’t let this go. The city won’t be safe for days—let’s lie low for a while.”

“Once things calm down, we’ll get our revenge.”

He applied antibiotic ointment to Merro’s wound—a small bottle of about ten milliliters of white powder cost 19.80 credits.

As he rubbed it in, he said, “We don’t owe them anything. Your injuries can’t be suffered in vain.”

“We must pay them back in kind—with blood for blood!”

“Otherwise, everyone will shit on our heads!”

In that instant, the previously defeated friends suddenly gathered a fierce resolve!

Ethan stomped his foot hard: “Lance is right—blood for blood!”

They all echoed it, and their determination was sealed.

After a while, the adrenaline faded and reason returned; they began thinking about what to do next.

Lance already had a plan: “Don’t worry about money—hide in the storm drain for now.”

“The chaos won’t last long. Jin Gang City is one of the Federation’s most important economic centers; the powerful won’t let it descend into disorder.”

“Whether it’s big capitalists or political forces, they’ll quickly settle this among themselves.”

“So remember: endure for now.”

“Don’t let them turn you into an example to scare others!”

“Once this passes, I’ll lead you to demand justice.”

“Don’t act alone, try not to provoke trouble—but if you’re in a fight and it’s in a deserted place...”

Lance looked at them, his eyes gleaming like cold blades in the night: “Kill them, hide the bodies, then come find me.”

Considering safety, Lance didn’t escort them back—nor did he need to, with so many of them.

Instead, they escorted Lance back to the bakery, where he hugged each one before the group vanished into the night.

The black night still spread thickly, like an uncertain future, filling hearts with fear.

Yet even in this darkness, a spark, a flame, was burning fiercely, unyielding.