Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [198]

The night was anything but peaceful.

Chen Lin sat at the edge of a flowerbed, idly running his fingers through the soft strands of hair resting against his leg with one hand, while the other held his phone. Yet, his gaze was vacant, as if staring at something far beyond the present.

He was managing a colony.

Unlike in a typical game, where establishing a colony might take hundreds of in-game days, the buffs and advantages at his disposal made the process far more efficient. However, the task was far from passive—he couldn’t simply watch a progress bar tick upward.

With each colony ship producing one unit of population—roughly equivalent to a billion people—he found the system restrictive. Populations gained through colony ships couldn’t be transferred back to the home planet, even though such a mechanism could significantly ease his developmental challenges.

One of his colony ships had reached a habitable planet over a hundred light-years from Jarilo-VI. Now, Chen Lin was tasked with making decisions about where and how to develop this newfound world.

The right choices could accelerate the colony’s progress and hasten the planet’s transformation into a productive asset.

Much of the debt incurred from terraforming had already been repaid. The repayment came not only from the planet’s output but also from profits derived from Seele’s successful pirate suppression campaigns—like selling captured pirate ships and using them for maintenance-free labor.

Jarilo-VI was running smoothly. As soon as he unlocked key building technologies, all he’d need to do was carefully plan construction slots and manage resources.

For now, however, Chen Lin relied on the star map to oversee colony development. Full oversight of his endeavors would only be possible after Luofu lifted its lockdown. Thankfully, Jarilo-VI had a wealth of talent, along with two powerful psionics to maintain order. Even handling rogue psionics wasn’t beyond their capabilities; Chen Lin had instructed Bronya to recondition captured criminals with psionic influence, putting them to work in mines or farms instead of wasting resources on executions.

“This… is a ruin?”

A new colony event popped up on his screen, momentarily catching him off guard.

The settlers, aided by advanced machinery, had been building the city tirelessly. Meanwhile, a smaller group ventured into unexplored areas of the planet.

While the science ship had mapped the planet’s topography to aid exploration, some areas remained insufficiently detailed. The settlers’ discoveries often proved invaluable.

According to the event description, the scouting team had uncovered a buried underground city hidden beneath layers of sand and dust. A colony-wide meeting ensued—one where Chen Lin effectively decided their course of action by choosing to dispatch additional teams to investigate.

Such events occurred every ten or twenty seconds, and Chen Lin often wondered how his split-second decisions might ripple across colonies light-years away.

As reports trickled in, the exploration teams unearthed valuable gems and metals rare on Jarilo-VI. They also found traces of a civilization that had once thrived here—evidence of an advanced society that appeared to have perished without the scars of war.

Chen Lin opted for further investigation, but after his decision, no additional event updates appeared.

Perplexed, he opened Jarilo-VI’s planetary overview and allocated a few more research labs before closing the star map with a puzzled murmur.

“Strange…”

From his experience with Stellaris, ruins like these should have appeared directly on the planet’s surface and been immediately identifiable through scans. The need for such extensive manual exploration was unusual.

If this method was consistent across all colonies, would every new planet require the same exhaustive efforts? The prospect was daunting.

Another question nagged at him. The history of Jarilo-VI, though extensive, had no records of such an advanced civilization existing only a hundred light-years away. Even if Jarilo-VI had missed it, surely the Interastral Peace Corporation would have documented it during their extensive market expansion efforts.

Unless this civilization had vanished before the IPC was established, it was hard to imagine how such a significant society could remain undiscovered.

Chen Lin decided to investigate further after the Luofu situation resolved itself. Perhaps Asta might know something when he next visited to repay his debts.

For now, his focus shifted to genetic technology. He had already unlocked key advancements like gene tailoring through random draws. These random selections bypassed research prerequisites but came with pros and cons: while providing powerful bonuses, they also diluted the tech pool, making desired breakthroughs increasingly harder to obtain.

Chen Lin smirked as he mentally thanked the tireless…

A soft groan interrupted his thoughts.

He looked down to see Fu Xuan, who was resting her head on his leg. Her delicate features twisted in discomfort, and large beads of sweat formed on her forehead before streaming down her face.

Her small frame began to tremble uncontrollably as though wracked by immense pain. In mere moments, her sweat had soaked through his pants and clothing, leaving Chen Lin utterly bewildered.

Before he could react, the tremors subsided. Fu Xuan, pale and visibly fatigued, struggled to sit up, wiping her forehead with a trembling hand.

“Big Sis, are you—”

“It’s merely a side effect of momentary carelessness,” Fu Xuan interrupted, her tone weary but firm. “I’m fine.”

With a flick of her wrists, she activated a series of sigils that projected onto her body. Her damp clothing dried instantly, and her drained expression was replaced with composed vigor.

Though outwardly reassured, Chen Lin’s mind raced. He suspected her pain was linked to the mystical eye embedded in her forehead. Over time, he had come to understand the intricacies of Xianzhou physiology better than most Danding Department physicians.

Dan Shu had once confided in him about the extreme toll such augmentations took on the body. She had described her brief glimpse into a beautiful world—a vision so profound that it left her with a longing so deep, she considered death a release when her artificial eye was forcibly expelled.

If Dan Shu hadn’t exaggerated, the excruciating pain Fu Xuan endured moments ago was likely her body’s rejection of the foreign object within her.

How much agony must it take to soak someone in sweat in mere seconds?

Chen Lin’s heart clenched. This was no fleeting episode; Fu Xuan’s seamless recovery suggested she had endured such torment countless times before.

“Is it the eye?” he asked quietly.

Fu Xuan nodded, her voice calm yet resolute. “Yes. This is the price of my choice. If enduring pain allows me to see the future more clearly, it is a small price to pay.”

Her sudden shift in tone surprised Chen Lin.

“Little Brother,” she continued softly, “I don’t believe in an absolute future, just as you don’t. But if we don’t strive to understand what lies ahead—what we must do, and how we must act—then we’re left adrift, facing an empty void. Your philosophy and mine align, but if given the choice, I refuse to repeat past mistakes.”

Fu Xuan’s gaze turned distant as memories surfaced.

Born into the prestigious Fu family of the Yujue Xianzhou, she had been hailed as a prodigy from the moment she was born. Before she could even comprehend the world around her, her family had divined her future: she would one day ascend to the position of Diviner.

The Yujue Xianzhou Diviner took her as a disciple, and Fu Xuan admired her mentor greatly for their wisdom and virtue.

But everything changed when she learned the truth: her mentor’s affection and guidance were rooted in a prophecy.

The divination had foretold that Fu Xuan would one day kill her mentor.

No matter how much she tried to avoid it, the threads of causality bound them together. During a war against the followers of Abundance, her strategy led directly to her mentor’s death.

The prophecy had come true.

“Tch…” Fu Xuan let out a bitter scoff.

Chen Lin listened to Fu Xuan’s story, gaining insight into her past for the first time. He had long been curious, even trying to coax details from Jing Yuan, but the general had merely smiled, stating that true understanding must come directly from her.

For someone as reserved as Fu Xuan to speak so openly, Chen Lin knew she wasn’t just sharing a story—she was seeking help from the person she trusted most.

After mulling it over, Chen Lin asked, “So, it’s like Kafka said—you can’t see my future?”

Fu Xuan hesitated, then replied, “I want to deny it, to avoid seeming self-serving, but yes, that’s the truth. Those close to you are obscured from my vision. Even my own future has become increasingly unclear since spending time with you.”

The more time she spent by his side, the more fragmented her visions became. Initially, she found this unsettling, but over time, she began to appreciate it. If she couldn’t change an immutable future, perhaps a blurred one was easier to control.

And yet, this reliance on proximity, on another person, filled her with guilt. The weight of her unspoken thoughts bore down on her.

“Got it,” Chen Lin said, his tone casual. “So how can I help?”

“You’re not angry?” Fu Xuan asked cautiously.

“Why would I be?”

Her question caught him off guard. To Chen Lin, it was a given to help those he cared about. Fu Xuan wasn’t just an ally—she was family. Why would he ever refuse her?

Fu Xuan finally spoke, her voice hesitant. “Just cooperate when the time comes. I may hold a high position in Luofu, but I have little to offer you in return. Still, if you ever need my help, just ask.”

Chen Lin nodded, a plan forming in his mind. “Actually, there is something you could help me with.”

Fu Xuan’s face brightened slightly. “Tell me.”

“Well, I need someone to pick an auspicious date for me. That’s not really my expertise.”

Fu Xuan tilted her head, intrigued. “Selecting a date depends on the occasion. What’s this for?”

“A big, joyous event, of course! Like a—”

Before Chen Lin could finish, Fu Xuan abruptly stood, her demeanor shifting in an instant. The warmth in her expression evaporated, replaced by a mask of formality.

“I don’t handle such matters. Stay here and wait,” she said, her voice cold. “I need to inspect the troops and ensure they’re ready for deployment.”

Chen Lin blinked in confusion, watching as she walked off briskly.

“What just happened?” he muttered to himself.

—

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!