Early in the morning, the crackling of fireworks and the pounding of drums echoed like rolling thunder across the city.
The thick, oppressive clouds seemed to disperse entirely, revealing a bright and clear sky. The rare sunshine prompted residents to step outside or onto their balconies, casting curious glances toward the streets.
“Supreme Guardian Cocolia Rand has demonstrated her decisive wisdom! The foreign fugitive Chen Lin has been apprehended and is now resting in the palace. The national crisis is resolved! Let all of Belobog’s citizens join in celebration! All restrictions are lifted—three days of nationwide festivities!”
…
A parade sent from Qlipoth Fort marched through the streets, spreading the announcement that the foreign imperial threat had been neutralized.
The citizens, however, remained skeptical. They still remembered the ominous scenes of destruction displayed by those strange machines. And though they sighed with relief, their hearts were heavy with sorrow.
They recalled how life had been under the dual leadership of Chen Lin and Bronya Rand—a time when Belobog prospered like never before. Goods that were once the exclusive luxury of the rich or high-ranking officials had become affordable for ordinary people. Items that would have taken months of savings could suddenly be purchased with a few days’ wages.
For over twenty days, it had felt like a miracle. Food was plentiful, jobs were available for everyone, and even those without work were assigned roles by Bronya, ensuring that every household had enough to live on.
Elders in their sixties called it the best time in Belobog’s history, preaching endlessly that the foreigner who had brought them this prosperity must have been sent by the heavens to save their nation.
But then, everything changed. Rumors swept through the streets, claiming that the man who had uplifted the people was a terrorist attempting to overthrow the government. The same Bronya who had tirelessly worked for their welfare was now painted as a brainwashed accomplice and confined to the palace.
Belobog’s literacy rate wasn’t high—less than 60%—but that didn’t mean its citizens were fools. They didn’t believe everything Qlipoth Fort proclaimed.
They saw only one truth: life had improved immeasurably under those two leaders. Crime rates had plummeted to an unprecedented low.
Under previous administrations, the lowest recorded crime rate was during the tenure of Belobog’s second Supreme Guardian, Svetlana Rand, when it fell from 47% to 6%. But during the short reign of Chen Lin and Bronya, crime dropped to a shocking 0.9%, primarily due to the crackdown on corrupt officials.
How could the citizens not cheer for such results?
After Chen Lin’s disappearance, however, everything spiraled downward. The money that once bought a hundred pounds of grain could now scarcely purchase five. And even then, supplies were scarce.
Disasters struck one after another: heating systems failed en masse, farms collapsed with no yield, and the Fragmentum rapidly encroached on reclaimed areas, retaking sections of the commercial district.
Protests were met with violence as reactionary guards arrested and beat students. Bloodshed became commonplace, and merchants who dared to expose the aristocracy’s crimes were silenced—beaten, or worse, killed.
Every disaster reminded the people of the brief golden age, of the young man who had roamed the streets collecting their feedback and delivering solutions, and of the girl who had established anonymous reporting systems to root out corruption.
Now, their Supreme Guardian remained unseen, hidden in the palace. Many couldn’t even remember her face. But they would never forget those two young leaders who had genuinely listened to their grievances and worked to resolve them.
No one was fooled. They knew who had truly betrayed them.
Even when the reactionary guards interrogated and threatened them, the citizens who had seen Chen Lin’s escape route remained tight-lipped.
They knew who the real terrorists were, who truly deserved to be hunted.
“What’s going on?” a sleepy resident asked as he joined the crowd.
“It’s bad news! That man who helped us all has been captured, and now they want us to celebrate for three whole days!”
Another citizen, stepping out onto the street, frowned in confusion. “But I heard we’re supposed to bring our own food for the celebrations?”
“I heard we’re also expected to pay for it,” someone added bitterly.
A third resident chimed in, “The neighbor told me that after the festivities, they’ll impose a huge tax—claiming it’s for equipping the army to fight Bronya’s forces.”
“Celebrate? I’ll celebrate their damn grave-digging!” an enraged man spat. “We can barely afford to eat, and they expect us to party? I swear, Bronya will tear that rotten palace down someday!”
“Shh! Lower your voice! Do you want to get arrested?” another person hastily covered his mouth. “Don’t use names—stick to codenames. Remember what happened to Fianna’s son? He said something similar too loudly and got thrown in jail. He’s still locked up!”
“Tch…”
The crowd grumbled quietly, their frustration simmering beneath the surface. Many families had been going hungry for days, and the thought of such a farcical celebration only fueled their anger.
Still, when the private soldiers arrived to enforce order, the citizens fell silent, unwilling to risk further repression.
“Sigh… I miss the days when those two ran the city. For the first time in my life, I knew what happiness felt like, and it lasted less than a month.”
“Well, at least the captured man will be safe now. It’s better this way—he’ll escape the danger here. It’s just a shame we couldn’t repay his kindness.”
While the streets buzzed with rumors and resentment, Qlipoth Fort bustled with preparations for its grand banquet. Chefs—dragged from the city’s top hotels to work for free—labored in the palace kitchens, churning out luxurious dishes. The extravagant feast consumed nearly all of the palace’s remaining supplies, leaving the chefs lamenting their plight.
Half-starved themselves, they cooked meals they couldn’t afford to taste, all under the watchful eyes of armed guards. Their stomachs growled as they continued their work in silence.
Meanwhile, within a heavily guarded pavilion surrounded by palace guards, a voice murmured from beneath a standard-issue helmet.
“They’re celebrating your capture. A three-day festival outside, and a victory banquet inside the palace.”
“I know,” Chen Lin replied from his seat on the bed. “This is exactly as I planned.”
“You’re really going through with this?” asked Dan Heng, disguised as a palace guard. “I could just capture Cocolia and force her to reveal the Stellaron’s location. It’d save us a lot of trouble.”
Chen Lin shook his head. “Honestly, Cocolia has two distinct powers within her. I can sense them. We probably can’t beat her on our own.”
“Two powers?”
“Yes,” Chen Lin confirmed. “One is the Stellaron’s energy, which I’ve grown familiar with. It dominates her. The other… I haven’t figured it out yet, but it’s no less formidable.”
“Still, you didn’t need to take your role in this farce to such extremes,” Dan Heng muttered.
“It’s simple—searching for the Stellaron like it’s just another task is boring. Isn’t it more fun to add some theatrics? Sure, killing is easy, but killing the spirit is far more satisfying.” Chen Lin’s sunny smile sent a chill down Dan Heng’s spine.
This man’s temperament was far darker than he’d initially thought.
Dan Heng reminded himself that Chen Lin had a long-term plan—something involving the need for faith or belief to strengthen his powers. Even the imperial fleet above was supposedly an extension of this mysterious force.
Though Dan Heng still couldn’t fully grasp it, one thing was clear: Chen Lin always had a plan.
Chen Lin’s current target was Jarilo-VI, but his ultimate goal, as he put it, seemed deceptively simple—he couldn’t remember where his home was, and he desperately wanted to go back.
To him, every passenger aboard the Astral Express was a fleeting encounter. Yet, his willingness to share his goal with Dan Heng showed a certain trust, a belief that Dan Heng could understand.
After a long conversation filled with Chen Lin’s persuasive charm, Dan Heng had to admit: this journey to find the Stellaron had become far more interesting.
He had met fascinating individuals: like Serval, a politically exiled figure with tremendous influence within the Silvermane Guards; the steadfast members of Wildfire who championed order in the chaos of the Underworld; and Bronya, whose eyes were once as pure as a tranquil lake when they first met.
So many faces, so many stories.
The journey felt undeniably more colorful than the aimless adventures he’d shared with March 7th in the past.
After all, back then, they had only been fugitives on the run, not orchestrators of rebellions to overthrow regimes.
“It does seem… a bit interesting,” Dan Heng finally conceded with a small nod.
Chen Lin grinned, spreading his hands. “See? Travel isn’t just about admiring someone else’s scenery. Sometimes, you create your own. Just imagine how Belobog will look once we’re done here. Think about the ripples we’re about to send through the cosmos…”
Dan Heng hesitated but began to visualize the events Chen Lin hinted at.
Belobog would descend into utter chaos.
Good grief.
He shuddered as understanding began to dawn.
“I think I’m starting to understand you,” Dan Heng muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation.
“Exactly! And it’s all about to begin. Just sit back and enjoy the show!” Chen Lin’s tone brimmed with mischief as he patted Dan Heng’s shoulder.
“But are you sure this won’t backfire? Especially on you…”
“I’ve never tried something this bold before, but I ran a few tests, and it should work out.” Chen Lin waved a hand dismissively, his carefree attitude unwavering. He plopped back down on the bed and said, “You heard me earlier during the rehearsal, didn’t you? I can communicate with you using my psionic projections. Trust my expertise as a psionic master! Just handle the physical stuff, and I’ll dive into the metaphysical side of things.”
“Just don’t get yourself into real trouble…”
“I won’t! Relax!”
Time passed, and the Qlipoth Fort was aglow with lanterns. Lights illuminated the sky above, bathing the palace in a dazzling radiance.
The banquet began as scheduled. Servants carried trays laden with extravagant dishes and desserts, creating an atmosphere of unprecedented opulence.
Everyone attending the banquet knew the monumental event that had transpired just the day before: Belobog was no longer under the looming threat of annihilation from foreign warships. The elites’ wealth and power were secure, their efforts vindicated.
For families who hadn’t suffered losses, this was a spectacle to behold. Their eyes occasionally wandered toward the group of clan leaders huddled near Cocolia, their faces heavy with discontent. Everyone knew these clans had paid dearly to pursue Chen Lin. One clan’s heir was even missing, their fate unknown.
Still, their sacrifices weren’t without recompense. Everyone understood that the Builder faction would have to compensate these clans for their losses. Whether the reparations would truly balance what had been lost was something only the clan leaders themselves could answer.
In a quiet corner of the banquet hall, Peter observed the proceedings with sharp eyes. He sipped his drink in silence, occasionally glancing toward the center of the room. When he saw Cocolia leave her seat, and the clan leaders reluctantly return to theirs, he knew his moment had arrived.
Catching the eye of an associate stationed nearby, Peter gave a subtle nod. The man picked up a glass of wine and approached the disgruntled leaders with practiced cordiality.
“Gentlemen, I can see you’re worried about your families. It’s understandable, and Cocolia’s concerns are valid. But time waits for no one—if we delay rescuing Mr. Zibek and the others, the situation might spiral out of control. As the saying goes, hesitation breeds misfortune.”
The leaders exchanged wary glances, but their ears perked up at his words.
Peter’s associate leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I may have a solution. All I ask in return is that you put in a good word for me with Cocolia. I’ve been stuck in the same position for years…”
The leaders’ expressions wavered as curiosity overtook their skepticism.
“Think about it. Chen Lin has enormous influence in the Underworld—so much so that the rabble there are willing to die for him. What if, before he’s sent away, we use some… persuasion to have him contact the rabble and demand they release your family members? Surely they wouldn’t dare disobey him. Wouldn’t that ease your worries?”
“But Cocolia wouldn’t allow it,” one of the leaders interjected hesitantly.
Peter’s man chuckled. “Gentlemen, what if you handled this discreetly? Act quickly and get it done before anyone notices. After all, most of the palace staff answers to you. Such a simple task would be child’s play for men of your stature.
“And even if it comes to light, do you think Cocolia would truly punish her most loyal allies? She relies on you to fill critical roles in the palace. She wouldn’t jeopardize the Builder faction’s stability by blaming you for saving your kin.
“Gentlemen, the advantage is clearly ours.”
The clan leaders’ expressions shifted, their hesitation beginning to melt away.
—
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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