The technological advancements in this universe don’t follow a gradual progression; rather, they emerge as sudden leaps forward, with researchers working backward to piece together their understanding.
Back when he first met Asta, Chen Lin had already begun to suspect this.
Everyone knew that the Legion’s constructs contained large amounts of antimatter, which indicated that at least some researchers had observed the annihilation of positron-electron pairs when Legion soldiers perished. This, in turn, led to an understanding akin to the fusion of ice and fire—where instead of neutralizing each other, the ice seemingly began to burn.
Theoretically, with the right equipment and mathematical formulas, it wouldn’t be difficult to deduce that this annihilation phenomenon stemmed from a mirrored counterpart of normal matter. Though appearing identical on the surface, their fundamental properties were completely reversed.
With this as the foundation, stabilizing and harnessing the annihilation of antimatter could very likely lead to breakthroughs in other areas, thanks to the massive energy released in the process.
As an energy source, it could be integrated into specialized equipment and even civilian infrastructure. Alternatively, it could be used to propel certain vessels to achieve light-speed or even expansion-speed travel. At the very least, it could serve as a formidable weapon.
Even if researchers weren’t actively pursuing these possibilities, they should at least be questioning why the annihilation of antimatter within the Legion didn’t result in massive explosions.
Yet, what seemed like a perfectly reasonable inference to Chen Lin was something that scientists simply didn’t care about. Or if they did, they hadn’t invested significant effort into investigating it. Instead, their focus was fixated on the so-called “Aeons,” convinced that the absence of an explosion had to be a result of Aeonic power.
Once they attributed something to the Aeons, it became inexplicably accepted as normal. They either ignored it or took their research down misguided paths.
Even the members of the Genius Society, including Herta herself, showed little interest in the matter. Herta was solely fixated on uncovering the true nature of the Aeons, hoping to one day observe them in their entirety. Anything beyond that—any additional byproducts of her research—was met with complete indifference.
This mindset reminded Chen Lin of how, back in Belobog, the city sat atop vast mineral resources, yet no one bothered to study their properties. All they cared about was Geomarrow, as if the entire city would collapse without it. The sheer absurdity of it left him speechless.
Thus, even though leading-edge corporations with vast resources had long since understood that extra-dimensional layers wove through the gravitational wells of most stars like an intricate web—suggesting that entering these dense networks could enable faster-than-light travel—
Despite this knowledge, no one had ever fully mapped out the trajectories of these hyperspatial filaments, nor had they found a way to remain within these anomalous zones for extended periods. Other civilizations faced the same limitations. As a result, nearly all spacecraft still relied on conventional chemical propulsion for sub-light travel. Occasionally, they could leverage specialized shelters or unique technologies for brief bursts of FTL movement, only to revert to conventional speeds shortly after.
Xianzhou’s massive military Starskiffs were an exception. The Luofu’s vessels were cultivated from living plants, and rumor had it that one particular Starskiff was even a fully sentient organism…
In any case, these military Starskiffs possessed a degree of Abundance-aligned power, allowing them to remain in hyperspatial corridors longer and with greater safety compared to other civilizations. However, Xianzhou had never shared this technology, not even during its most difficult times. When the IPC attempted to study military Starskiffs, they were met with a firm refusal from Xianzhou’s highest authorities.
This state of affairs persisted—until one day, Jing Yuan watched as Chen Lin’s warship whoosh—vanished into a hyperspatial slipstream. Only then did Xianzhou treat Starskiff technology like discarded trash and casually toss it to Chen Lin for civilian use.
This was all the proof needed: apart from Chen Lin’s civilization, everyone else was still playing around with primitive sub-light interstellar travel. Not only was it slow, but in certain regions, due to the local physical laws, accidentally slipping into a hyperspatial corridor could be outright fatal if one’s technology or protective measures were inadequate.
Under the influence of the Aeons—particularly the Aeon of Erudition—certain technologies had advanced in leaps and bounds, bypassing all prerequisite knowledge to reach the limits of what their understanding allowed. The sheer speed of development was enough to amaze even Chen Lin, despite his extensive technological background.
But precisely because civilizations here had been forced into a chaotic, nonlinear progression of technological development—skipping entire steps due to divine intervention—the consequences had been mounting ever since the Amber Epoch. Many breakthroughs, once the initial Aeonic enlightenment wore off, had hit a wall, leaving researchers with a sobering realization:
They knew what worked but not why it worked.
It was like students memorizing thousands of exam questions. At some point, they could pick the right answer just by glancing at the multiple-choice options, without even reading the question.
As for why the answer was correct?
Because the answer key said so!
Once one understood this, it became much less surprising to see modern scientists scratching their heads over hyperspatial corridors. They knew they existed, yet no matter how much they experimented, they simply couldn’t find a safe, stable entry method.
Being handed technology without proper understanding had consequences: critical details were ignored, foundational knowledge was never solidified, and progress became entirely dependent on the whims of the Aeons.
—
Topaz spoke with conviction:
“We need Imperial technology—all of it. Especially your aerospace technology.”
“The Empire’s technological advancements are, without question, the most coveted treasures in the entire galaxy. The IPC is no exception. If these technologies were to become widespread, interstellar societies could establish closer, more seamless connections…”
“If, under your influence, the Empire were to share this knowledge, I can assure you, you would be celebrated across the galaxy. And the Empire would reap immense rewards in return.”
Of course, requesting all technologies was unrealistic—Topaz had no illusions about that. But aerospace technology? That was just a small subset of the whole, and it was precisely what the IPC most desired.
By emphasizing aerospace technology, she hoped to plant a seed in Chen Lin’s mind—an acceptable middle ground.
Chen Lin chuckled. “You sure know how to flatter me. But I’m not that generous.”
“Oh, I don’t mean to flatter you. Governor, you’re simply different from the other leaders I’ve met,” Topaz replied confidently. “To outsiders, the Empire is shrouded in mystery. But the IPC has long recognized its potential—an invaluable treasure beyond mere monetary value. With its technological edge, the Empire could easily wage war and become a dominant force. Yet, it has chosen not to.”
Well, there weren’t many ships before, so launching a war would’ve been a terrible idea… Chen Lin thought to himself. He glanced at her, his expression calm as he said,
“Waging war outright would only earn the Empire a reputation of infamy. I’d much rather see people form dignified alliances.”
Topaz didn’t seem to catch the implication—that avoiding infamy didn’t mean the Empire wouldn’t resort to war. Instead, she nodded and placed a hand over her chest, bowing respectfully.
“Forgive my presumption. Before meeting you, I expected you to be a rigid and domineering ruler—especially since we approached under the pretense of debt collection. I feared a violent confrontation. But instead, you’ve been remarkably open-minded, even allowing our investigations. This proves the Empire’s magnanimity far exceeds our expectations.”
Chen Lin smirked. “You’ve got a sharp tongue. Technology, huh…? Heh, it’s negotiable. How negotiable depends on the IPC’s sincerity—and Miss Jelena’s, of course. But even if the IPC isn’t proactive, one day, I’ll ensure these technologies reach every corner of the galaxy.”
Seeing Chen Lin’s seemingly satisfied smile, Topaz’s heart pounded violently. But it wasn’t due to any sort of charm ability on his part—rather, it was because she was genuinely thrilled by the implications behind his response.
As a businesswoman, Topaz was well-versed in negotiation tactics. She had originally planned to use the door-in-the-face technique—starting with an extreme request before gradually lowering her demands to increase the chances of reaching a compromise.
But now…
Why does it feel like even this outrageous proposition of sharing all Imperial technology actually has a chance?
She didn’t even dare to imagine what kind of promotion she’d receive if she managed to close such a massive deal. She might even be directly elevated to the Board of Directors, becoming the youngest board member in IPC history, securing a position where she could truly make an impact.
Jelena’s name could go down in history alongside the company’s founders. Countless civilizations, saved by the technology shared by the Empire, would remember her contributions and revere her for generations to come…
Who could possibly resist such an achievement?
Topaz maintained her composure and said calmly, “The company does not require an immediate response. You can report to the highest authorities of the Empire before informing us of your decision. When the time comes, just contact me directly. Additionally, the quantity of energy infrastructure you require can be increased as needed. As long as it’s within the company’s capabilities, we will spare no effort.”
—
Most people present might unconsciously overlook the conversation between Chen Lin and Topaz due to the psychic veil he had cast. But for those who were also psionics—such as Bronya and the Executor Phantylia—they remained acutely aware of what was happening above.
Meanwhile, Qingque, answering a call from Qingzu, was led away to meet with various political officials from Belobog. This granted Bronya and Phantylia the opportunity to refocus their attention on the main stage.
Phantylia casually found a seat, leaned back, and smirked in the direction of the stage. “She’s young, but she’s got ambition. These little girls sure do dream big these days~”
Before a psychic and an Executor, no amount of emotional concealment could truly be effective. The waves of thought emanating from Topaz’s mind repeated over and over, serving as undeniable proof of her true intentions.
Bronya set down her glass of wine, smoothed out the folds in her dress, and spoke softly, “The mentor was right. When faced with the allure of immense profit, even the most elite individuals can lose their rationality. They momentarily forget the astronomical costs that come with a deal like this. And once unforeseen obstacles arise, delivering one devastating blow after another, the resulting psychological crash will devour their reason like a demon…”
She recalled their first meeting with Topaz—how the woman had pretended to be benevolent while conveniently ignoring her subordinates’ provocations, allowing them to test Belobog’s strength. Then, just as conflict was about to escalate, she suddenly appeared, full of confidence, offering an insincere apology to Pela:
“I’m terribly sorry. These people are new and unfamiliar with protocol. I’ve already deducted their wages as punishment. Surely your esteemed nation wouldn’t hold such minor figures accountable?”
Even now, remembering those words made Bronya speechless.
If Mentor had been present back then… well, let’s just say that besides Topaz, the others would’ve been pushing up daisies by now.
Phantylia’s sharp eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Madam, why do you seem so unconcerned about the Lord?”
Bronya chuckled. “Phantylia, you haven’t been here long, so you wouldn’t understand. Mentor is indeed kind, upright, and exceptionally honorable. He doesn’t flinch in the face of oppression, and when confronted with injustice, he intervenes decisively. To his own people, he is so generous that he doesn’t hesitate to make sacrifices for their sake. Every action he takes is for their benefit.
“But… that doesn’t mean he’s the type to turn the other cheek when struck.”
Isn’t this description a little too glorified?
Phantylia mentally rolled her eyes but kept her expression playful. Tilting her head, she cooed, “Madam, you sure understand the Lord well~”
“She can’t outmaneuver Mentor. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. And when it comes to moral boundaries… let’s just say he’s flexible.
“In the end, it’s fine if we don’t fully understand his actions at the moment. But one thing is certain—whatever he does, he has his reasons.”
Bronya said this with complete confidence, even borrowing a line Pela had once used.
Phantylia grinned, lavishing praise on Bronya for her keen insight, wisdom, and virtue. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “Madam is so beautiful… truly a perfect match for the Lord.”
Before she could finish, Bronya reached out and covered Phantylia’s mouth.
“Shhh… Phantylia, you don’t need to butter me up. I have never rejected your presence, so there’s no need to please me.”
“I lack any real talent. That’s an objective fact, and no amount of flattery will change it… unless I attain the pinnacle of psychic power.
“I know very well that I am not worthy of Mentor. So I do my best to stay out of his way, support him in everything he wants to do, and assist him however I can. That is all I can offer.”
Phantylia, her mouth still covered, blinked in silence.
She thought of several faces among the Xianzhou people and sighed inwardly.
Madam, if you continue thinking like this, I foresee quite a few more concubines in the future…
Besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t witnessed Bronya’s psychic abilities firsthand.
With just a few words, Bronya could alter the conceptual framework of an object’s destructive potential—turning an ordinary bullet into the equivalent of several tons of high-explosive payload.
And you call that “lacking talent”?
—
“Lord Chen Lin, what do you think of our offer?”
Topaz had presented the IPC’s most generous concessions regarding time and territorial control.
Oh? She’s even addressing me as ‘Lord Chen Lin’ now?
Looks like this deal is so tantalizing that it’s completely scrambled her brain.
Then again, it made sense. The civilizations here were far too reliant on the Aeons’ power. If someone could find an alternative way to supplement Aeon-assisted technological advancements, that would be truly groundbreaking.
Thanks to the fish-giving enlightenment of the Aeons, Chen Lin wasn’t foolish enough to trade technology for mere money. At most, he’d offer finished or semi-finished products—strictly safeguarded against reverse engineering.
His real goal was to strangle everyone’s dependence on the Empire. By forcing them to tolerate the Empire’s presence, he could maneuver more easily in the future.
Because the pacifist Empire was running out of neutral, prosperous territories to expand into. Soon, it would have to embark on a period of militarization.
Thus, it was crucial to train other civilizations and factions to endure the Empire’s growing influence. But this had to be done gradually.
If the shift was too abrupt, it would backfire. That’s where Xianzhou came in handy…
Chen Lin treated Xianzhou well for a reason.
First, he felt a faint sense of belonging to them, likely due to their cultural similarities.
Second, as the highest-ranking leaders of the Luofu, Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan had close ties to him. If he needed them to bend the rules for him, the odds were in his favor.
Third, his influence had already permeated Xianzhou’s internal politics. Many among them viewed the Empire favorably.
Finally, and most crucially—Xianzhou could serve as a test case. If he played his cards right, the entire galaxy would envy their benefits.
And as for the IPC?
That required a different approach.
Chen Lin tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table before standing up. With a disappointed shake of his head, he sighed and stepped down from the main stage.
“What a shame, Miss Jelena. I still don’t see any sincerity from your side. When you finally have enough sincerity, contact me through Pela—I’ll give you one last chance. Otherwise… when dealing with bandits eyeing us like hungry wolves, the Empire tends to take a more aggressive approach.”
“Soon, I’ll have someone downgrade the company’s diplomatic standing to Level One. And if it ever reaches zero… then I suppose we’ll be negotiating on the battlefield.”
“The moonlight is beautiful tonight. Go home and get some rest.”
“Uh—huh…?”
“Oh, and one more thing—just a little reminder.”
“Whether I share technology, how much I share, and in what way—that’s my call alone. I don’t need to report it to anyone. The Empire isn’t so desperate as to treat these rudimentary, primitive technologies like precious treasures. Hah.”
Topaz’s brain momentarily crashed.
It wasn’t because of Chen Lin’s arrogance or his unyielding, domineering attitude.
It was because she had no idea why the negotiations had suddenly collapsed.
She had practically offered up every resource and asset the company could muster.
And that still wasn’t sincere enough?
If even this isn’t considered sincerity… then tell me, what the hell is?!
Behind Chen Lin, his sharp gaze caught the subtle twitching of Topaz’s facial muscles. Even though it lasted only a fraction of a second, it betrayed the whirlwind of emotions churning inside her—the massive psychological gap between expectation and reality manifesting in real time.
Tension, anxiety, disappointment, frustration, confusion…
It was obvious.
Phantylia’s trap had already caught its prey.
Now, Chen Lin was simply curious—what kind of plan did Phantylia have in mind to take control of this high-ranking IPC director?
After all, this was a critical stepping stone in his strategy to bring the company under Imperial influence.
A bridgehead for the eventual annexation.
—
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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