Today, the research division of Qlipoth Fort was unusually lively.
Typically, this place exuded a quiet atmosphere, with white-coated researchers bustling in and out of the building. Unless it was a major national holiday like Sunlit Day, you’d rarely hear any cheering.
At most, there might be a conference at Qlipoth Fort, where senior researchers and department heads would be invited. Only then would the halls see slightly more foot traffic.
“Big news! Big news! Everyone, come out and see!”
“Shouting so early in the morning—didn’t work enough overtime last night? Should I write to the professor and recommend you cover for me instead?”
“Go to hell. Who wants to cover your overtime? It’s your own leave, you make it up yourself!”
“Tch, can’t trick you, huh?”
“Just because you’re dumb doesn’t mean I am. Anyway, the big news is that Mentor Chen is at our research division’s courtyard today! And Bronya and Deputy Pela are with him—it seems like something major is happening.”
“What?! Are you talking about that Mentor Chen Lin—the one who can wield a pen to revolutionize research and a sword to reclaim lost lands?!”
“Hah, of course!”
“No wonder the crowd downstairs is so huge! Quick, we’ve got to snag front-row seats, or we’ll never squeeze in!”
A similar scene unfolded in every office within the research division of Qlipoth Fort.
Since the energy crisis and the conference discussing Belobog’s future technological direction, Chen Lin’s reputation had spread like wildfire among the academic elites of the city.
At first, many didn’t understand the significance of the new teaching materials distributed by their superiors or the purpose of the mandatory workshops. But as they slogged through the intricate sessions, they quickly realized the potential impact of these scientific principles on Belobog’s future.
These academic elites, hailing from various institutions, soon recognized that what appeared to be simple theories were, in fact, pointing out the flaws in Belobog’s skewed development path. It was no wonder their innovations had hit a ceiling for years—Belobog had suffered a technological stagnation. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t move forward.
Many researchers who had briefly interacted with Chen Lin wore their encounters as badges of honor, often boasting about how this young-looking mentor had silenced skeptical leaders with his knowledge and revived their stagnant department.
Some claimed they’d seen the former minister humbled to the point of blushing after being intellectually outmatched, becoming far more modest ever since.
Others recounted how senior leaders had been awestruck by seemingly simple principles they’d overlooked for years, falling to their knees in awe of Mentor Chen.
Then there were the more fantastical rumors—like how the Supreme Guardian was so reluctant to let Chen Lin leave that she offered him a marriage alliance to keep him in Belobog. As for who the intended partner was…
Well, the researcher spreading that third rumor was promptly invited for “tea” by Deputy Pela’s intelligence division and didn’t return to work for several days. When they did come back, they seemed noticeably plumper and refused to discuss what had transpired during their absence.
Still, their penchant for spreading rumors seemed to have grown even stronger.
Unbeknownst to Chen Lin, his reputation within the research division had reached mythical proportions. Perhaps it was for the best—otherwise, he’d surely deny 99.9% of the rumors and chastise the researchers for their lack of scientific rigor.
They’re supposed to be scientists! How can they fail to prioritize facts?
Fortunately, he remained blissfully unaware. Upon entering the research division, he found the staff more enthusiastic than even the families of the Silvermane Guards he’d saved. Researchers here sure are passionate about their work, he thought, feeling nostalgic for his own days in the lab.
In the expansive courtyard, the researchers kept their distance respectfully, leaving only a handful of senior professors, summoned by Pela, standing nearby.
Pela succinctly explained the situation to these experienced professionals. Upon learning that Geomarrow—a vital energy resource—could now be artificially synthesized, their expressions turned as if they’d seen a ghost. They were even more astonished than when they first discovered the uses of coal.
It wasn’t surprising. The research division had been in decline for years, and the talent pool from Belobog’s remaining universities had been shrinking due to the city’s population problems. Complex factors contributed to this, including the Supreme Guardian’s rejection or shelving of numerous proposals to stimulate birth rates and academic pursuits.
If they couldn’t even understand Geomarrow’s basic composition, the idea of artificially synthesizing it was laughably out of reach.
Now, hearing that someone had achieved the impossible, how could they not be shocked?
Even those who had just pulled all-nighters were eager to witness this miracle. After all, if their overtime contributed to a groundbreaking advancement, they’d gladly endure the exhaustion.
Overtime was painful, yes—but to witness the dawn of a new era? Worth it.
—
“Mentor, is this space sufficient?” Bronya leaned closer to Chen Lin, her voice soft.
“I think it should be enough. Though it might be a bit overwhelming—if it causes any discomfort, I hope you can endure it,” Chen Lin replied, uncertain himself. After all, he had no idea how much Geomarrow would result from converting all the minerals he’d collected from Jarilo-VI in a single day.
Last night, he’d figured out the operation method but hadn’t dared to test it, fearing an accidental disaster at the hotel.
“Will it be a lot?” Pela asked, confused.
“I forgot to ask for specifics, but it shouldn’t be a small amount,” Chen Lin hedged. “I have a device capable of spatial storage. They’ve already loaded the materials into it, but my abilities aren’t sufficient to assess its contents.”
“Thank you for your efforts, sir.” Pela bowed respectfully, showing no disdain for his “insufficient abilities.” To her, this young man had endured great hardship to help them, while all they could do was stand by and watch.
The more she thought about it, the more guilt weighed on her. How can we ever repay such a profound debt?
Bronya nodded reassuringly. “Go ahead. Don’t worry about causing damage.”
“Yes! Mentor Chen, go wild! Even if you demolish a few buildings, we can cover the costs and materials!”
“Exactly!”
A group of elderly researchers, their hair white and beards longer than Chen Lin’s hair, stood deferentially. If not for his thick skin, Chen Lin might have burst out laughing at the sight.
“Alright, let’s begin.”
Chen Lin started tracing symbols in the air, though he was actually interacting with buttons in his interface.
Suddenly, the light above the research division dimmed. All eyes turned skyward, jaws dropping as they witnessed the phenomenon.
A voice broke the silence.
“Qlipoth above… it’s raining Geomarrow from the heavens!”
A quick smack followed.
“Mind your words! Mentor Chen above, thank you for making it rain Geomarrow!”
—
This is a fan translation of 在星穹铁道点群星科技树真的没问题吗？ by 杏雨诗韵 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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