Over a month passed in the blink of an eye.
After a few days of rest, Chen Lin was immediately met with an overwhelming mountain of work. Though only a fraction of it required his direct approval, just the sheer volume was enough to make most people recoil in horror.
This workload could literally kill someone…
Jarilo-VI’s capital planet, along with its two colonies—Jarilo-VII and Jarilo-VIII—were all now officially part of the Empire. Though their combined population barely reached a hundred million, the stream of administrative matters never stopped.
The primary reason for this backlog of work was simple: he had been away for far too long. The last time he was here, aside from giving verbal instructions on a few major projects, he hadn’t handled much of anything.
In truth, the bureaucratic system of Jarilo-VI was already quite mature. Many tasks didn’t require his direct involvement—his officials were more than capable of handling them. All he really needed to do was review reports and approve or reject decisions.
Having access to the advanced technology of the stars, with its instant creation capabilities, certainly helped reduce his workload.
All in all, the reason he was currently even busier than Bronya wasn’t domestic affairs—it was figuring out how to deal with the L-Gate. There had been some progress, but without actually opening the gate, he still had no clear grasp of what lay beyond it.
Additionally, he had been monitoring the establishment of the Empire’s embassy.
A while ago, Natasha had handpicked a team of civil and military officers before departing for Luofu aboard two escort frigates and a destroyer. By now, they were likely nearing their destination.
Meanwhile, the Luofu embassy in Belobog had already been completed. It stood at the edge of the Administrative District—the very heart of the nation’s politics. The fact that the embassy was situated there was a clear sign of how seriously Chen Lin regarded this diplomatic relationship.
For the past couple of days, his workload had eased up slightly, allowing him more time to rest. Whenever he had a moment, he would check on newly upgraded outposts before immediately queuing up the construction of more shipyards.
A vast amount of resources had been funneled into the military, leaving him once again in a classic Stellaris predicament: an overabundance of energy credits and food, but a dire shortage of alloys…
Whenever a particular resource was on the verge of overflowing, he simply offloaded some to the Xianzhou to avoid waste.
He knew there was no rushing things. Though resources were calculated daily, production had its limits. Being able to produce the equivalent of a cruiser’s worth of resources in a single day was already incredible—expecting anything beyond that was unrealistic. After all, even if he expanded alloy production zones, Jarilo simply didn’t have enough workers to fill those positions.
Lying beneath the shade of a parasol in the Qlipoth Fort gardens, he rested his head on a fox-eared girl’s lap, snacking on fruit while pondering how to solve the labor shortage.
The nearby pirate groups had already been wiped out, and rumors had begun circulating across the star systems—word was spreading fast that space pirates who ventured into the Jarilo sector or nearby public space tended to vanish without a trace.
Peeling fruit for him, Phantylia had long since resigned herself to her fate. That contract—so unnatural that it seemed like it shouldn’t even exist—had bound her as a slave. While she didn’t necessarily share her master’s interests, her life and well-being were now entirely tied to his.
In the end, being pampered as a personal pet wasn’t such a bad deal.
She was provided with food and shelter, and from time to time, she even witnessed what could only be described as miracles. For her, being able to observe such divine wonders from a higher realm was an opportunity others could only dream of.
More importantly… he didn’t truly treat her as a slave.
Whenever major discussions were held—decisions that could shape the very future of the Empire—Chen Lin often had her present. Sometimes, he even entrusted important matters directly to her. The rewards were obvious: purer and stronger blessings of abundance.
The more time she spent with him, the more she realized that he was unbelievably generous to those he considered his own. No matter how valuable something was, he would always ensure his people had what they needed.
She herself had reaped plenty of benefits. Her physical strength had increased by nearly twenty percent, and even her psionic abilities had grown significantly.
At times, she couldn’t help but think—Clinging to a powerful benefactor isn’t such a bad thing.
It was as if someone had bought out her entire future yet still insisted on paying her a salary.
And the longer she stayed by his side, the more her aesthetic preferences shifted. Slowly, she found herself beginning to view organic beings differently…
There were even moments when she found her master… rather attractive.
“Master, what are you brooding over this time~? Surely not just tonight’s dinner?” Phantylia teased as she fed him another piece of fruit.
“I’m thinking about how to lure those space pirates back into our territory,” Chen Lin replied with a frown. “There are too many unfilled positions, and the assembly plants’ automation isn’t efficient enough. The low synthetic alloy output is a serious problem.”
Sitting up suddenly, he turned to Phantylia and asked, “You’ve traveled to many places. Do you know if there are any large-scale slave markets operating right now?”
Phantylia chuckled. “Actually, there is one.”
“Good. I’ll send someone to—”
Before he could finish, she poured cold water on his enthusiasm.
“But even the biggest market wouldn’t be able to satisfy your appetite~” she said in a low voice. “That said, I do have a solution—one that could drastically increase our labor force across all three Jarilo planets.”
Chen Lin thought about it for a moment and realized she was right. He wasn’t looking for a few hundred thousand or even a few million workers—he needed billions. There simply weren’t enough slaves in the galaxy to meet that demand.
“Go on,” he said.
After a cautious glance around to ensure no one else was nearby, Phantylia leaned in slightly.
“Several fledgling civilizations nearby have recently entered the space age due to stellaron anomalies affecting their systems. These worlds have very limited knowledge of the broader galaxy. Right now, their corporations are trying to exert control over them, but economic collapse, resource shortages, and food scarcity are pushing them toward internal unrest.”
“Instead of watching them struggle, why don’t we offer them a labor exchange program? We provide them with surplus minerals, food, and advanced products as compensation. Not only would this secure their planetary resources under our influence, but it also ensures a steady workforce without resorting to war.”
Chen Lin immediately rejected the idea of warfare. “No. If we suddenly fabricate some flimsy excuse to invade and throw them into turmoil or outright destroy their nations, it’ll ruin our reputation. If we do go to war, it should be over something significant, and we should wait for the right opportunity—preferably when a major crisis occurs. Right now, just setting up outposts and expanding our borders will do.”
Phantylia blinked in surprise before quickly realizing there had been a misunderstanding. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she clarified, “Master… I wasn’t suggesting an invasion. I meant that we should negotiate labor agreements. These people have never seen anything beyond their homeworlds. If we offer them fair trade deals—exchanging excess minerals, food, or finished goods for their workers—we might even gain access to their planetary resources.”
“It’s definitely not about waging war… I mean, not unless you want to demonstrate imperial might, that is.”
For a moment, even she was taken aback. My first thought was diplomacy, but my master’s first instinct was to conquer them and take in refugees…?
She knew her master had deliberately kept the company’s representatives waiting, refusing to meet or even acknowledge them. If he truly despised them, he would have expelled them long ago. That meant there had to be a greater reason behind it—most likely, it had to do with what Chen Lin had previously mentioned in a meeting: the establishment of an Imperial Economic Zone.
By flooding markets with cheap goods and controlling the flow of resources, the Empire could create dependency—forcing its neighbors to rely on Jarilo’s economy. The best part? Since Jarilo’s resource extraction essentially had no cost, even if the corporation tried to undercut prices, it would be a losing battle.
Even if the company had cost-reducing technology, it was meaningless against the Empire’s ability to generate resources out of thin air.
By securing control over neighboring civilizations—once isolated due to the stellaron crisis—Chen Lin wouldn’t just gain a strategic buffer zone. These civilizations could also serve as loyal vassals, taking on tasks that the Empire itself preferred to avoid.
In other words, they would be his pawns.
Phantylia had clearly thought this through in detail. She had weighed the pros and cons and even prepared a step-by-step plan, hoping to use this opportunity to prove her value.
However, just as Chen Lin was nodding along in agreement, he suddenly fell silent.
Phantylia’s heart skipped a beat. Did I miss something?
She was confident in her strategy—so why was her master hesitating?
Just as unease started creeping in, Chen Lin spoke.
“They aren’t some kind of weird starfish-looking creatures, are they?”
Oh, so that’s what he’s concerned about! If these aliens looked too strange, the general populace might not accept them easily. It seemed she still had a long way to go in thinking as comprehensively as her master.
“They’re… similar to me.”
“Psionic entities?”
“Not quite. They’re an advanced demi-human species—at least a few million Amber Eras ahead in evolution. They’re not too different from the Foxians of Xianzhou.”
Phantylia pulled up several news reports on her terminal.
“Before the stellaron explosion, the company had already been doing business there. They even have outstanding debts on record. You know how it is—even if those debts are completely unreasonable, the company won’t let them off the hook.”
While she spoke, Chen Lin opened his star map. Unfortunately, it only displayed systems where the Empire had outposts, so he had no visibility into neighboring territories.
A thought crossed his mind—If I make them a vassal state, will their territory appear on my map?
Either way, this was something worth considering. He would take the time to gather intelligence. Pela, young as she was, had an unmatched sense for espionage and intelligence operations. Her agents had likely already infiltrated the neighboring civilizations.
One of the first things he had ever told Pela was that it didn’t matter whether someone was friend or foe—if they had a weakness, it should be documented.
“Alright,” Chen Lin said casually. “Later, go check with Pela. If she already has relevant intelligence, bring it to me. If not, tell her to start working on it immediately.”
“That urgent?”
Chen Lin glanced at her.
“This isn’t urgent. Even crops need watering and fertilizer. And when the fertilizer is already sitting right on our doorstep, we’d be wasting it if we let it rot.”
Ever since the last negotiation, Topaz had been trying to schedule another meeting. But Chen Lin had refused each request with a variety of flimsy excuses—while still leaving just enough hope for future talks.
Instead of outright rejecting them, he had allowed them to remain on Jarilo-VI for an evaluation period. That way, the company kept thinking, next time, we’ll definitely get a meeting.
Phantylia nodded. “Understood. Do you need me to handle the intelligence work personally?”
“No need,” Chen Lin waved her off. “There are people for that kind of busywork.”
…
After discussing details for another hour, he received a message from the Psionic Honor Guard stationed in the shadows.
A Landau child requests an audience.
He checked the live feed.
It was the little girl Jepard had brought along last time—Lynx Landau.
[Grant access. Escort her to the inner garden.]
Only a select few individuals had clearance to enter the Qlipoth Fort’s outer grounds. Anyone else wouldn’t even make it past the front gates.
Chen Lin was suddenly reminded of something—he technically had an official office in the Governor’s Palace, but he had never once stepped foot inside, let alone lived there…
Before long, a heavily armed Honor Guard captain led a small girl—barely reaching Chen Lin’s waist—into the garden. After delivering her safely, the soldier wordlessly returned to his post.
Chen Lin was about to greet the girl—whose psionic potential had clearly improved by several tiers—when she suddenly dropped to one knee, mimicking her brother’s formal salute.
“G-Governor… My name is—”
“Lynx, I know,” Chen Lin interrupted with a chuckle. “Pela’s told me plenty about you. In the future, unless it’s an official setting, don’t kneel every time you see me. Just treat me like one of your brother’s comrades-in-arms. Now, come—sit over here.”
“Oh… okay.”
Lynx blinked in surprise.
Her family elders always spoke of the Governor as a great and powerful leader, someone beyond their reach. But now, he had casually lifted her onto a sofa, his demeanor warm and approachable—more like an older sibling than a high-ranking ruler.
This wasn’t an act.
Chen Lin genuinely disliked it when people knelt before him in casual settings—especially children.
As long as they were polite and well-mannered, he had no issue with them.
Phantylia, smiling all the while, brought over a tray of fruit, snacks, and drinks. She also smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt before stepping aside, quietly fulfilling her role.
“You… You’ve heard about me from Pela?”
“Of course,” Chen Lin replied. “She told me you’re one of Belobog’s most talented young explorers. In an era when the world was far more dangerous, that line of work was anything but safe—especially for someone as fearless as you.”
He smiled.
“And if I recall correctly, Pela even asked you to help draft a field manual for the ground forces, didn’t she?”
Though she knew the Governor was friendly, Lynx couldn’t help feeling nervous. She nodded hesitantly.
“The Survival Training Manual for Extreme Wilderness Conditions. It’s based on what I learned from senior explorers in my old expedition team. I… I included real-life examples in it. If possible, I hope no one who reads it ever repeats the mistakes of those tragedies…”
Chen Lin had read that manual before.
It was a survival guide written under the assumption that no psionic abilities were available. It contained comprehensive knowledge on enduring extreme environments—practical skills that had been compiled and refined over time.
Even though planetary climates, flora, and fauna varied wildly, survival training always followed the same principle: learn from experience and continuously improve.
Many of the seemingly redundant steps in the manual were backed by actual case studies—often multiple, each more gruesome than the last. They served as stark reminders of why those steps were necessary.
It was, in short, an extremely practical field manual.
Lynx hesitated several times, clearly wanting to say something but too nervous to voice it.
She had come prepared—ready to ask the all-powerful Governor for help in finding something. But now that she was actually in front of him, she hesitated.
Chen Lin could tell she was afraid of making her request.
He reached out and ruffled the small girl’s head.
“It’s alright. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“It’s about… Pela.”
—
T/N: IM GONNA DIE BEFORE THE WEEK ENDS TRANSLATING 10 CHAPTERS OF STELLARIS RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
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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