A flurry of thoughts raced through Chen Lin’s mind as his gaze shifted toward Kafka, who had somehow freed herself from her restraints. Stelle had already leaped forward to try and stop her, but the sudden hum of a sword being drawn cut through the tension.
A blade gleamed, its edge barring Stelle’s path.
Standing in her way was a man with a stern face, bandages wrapped around his wrists, and a single lock of long hair tied behind him.
Even from a distance, Chen Lin could sense the overpowering stench of bloodlust radiating from the man, a suffocating aura that clung to the air like a storm cloud.
Kafka, unfazed, retreated gracefully with a bright smile. “So, little one, where’s my prize?”
“Here,” Chen Lin replied.
As if responding to his words, Kafka’s blade materialized by his side. The weapon seemed to be manipulated by some unseen force, cutting through the stranger’s longsword with a sharp clang. A dazzling burst of light erupted as the blade’s murderous aura froze the swordsman in his tracks, and the weapon swiftly returned to Kafka’s hand.
Stelle, realizing she couldn’t stop Kafka, stood in place, her frustration etched into her face. Her eyes darted toward Chen Lin, a silent plea for help.
“Chen Lin…”
“Relax,” Chen Lin said, gently holding her hand. “They have other business to attend to. This isn’t about the Stellaron Hunters anymore.”
“But… but…” Stelle stammered.
“It’s fine,” Chen Lin reassured her.
Looking at Kafka, who continued to retreat, Chen Lin asked with unusual seriousness, “You’ll come looking for her again, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Kafka replied with a sly smile. “There’s still so much left unsaid.”
Her eyes flickered with a strange light as she added, “Take care of yourselves, both of you.”
With those words, Kafka spread her arms and let herself fall from the edge of the Matrix of Prescience. The blood-drenched man sheathed his sword and glanced at Chen Lin—whose hand was still outstretched as if he were controlling Kafka’s blade—before leaping after her.
Stelle bit her lip, watching Kafka and her companion vanish. A hollow ache spread in her chest, leaving her feeling deeply unsettled.
Her trembling hands gripped Chen Lin’s arm tightly. Kafka’s words had felt so genuine, so familiar, as though they had been spoken in another time, another life. Yet Stelle couldn’t recall any of it, nor could she make sense of her current state.
Her mood spiraled downward, and she clung to the only person she could trust—the one constant in her fragmented reality.
After all, he was the second person she had ever remembered after opening her eyes.
Feeling a gentle pinch on her cheeks, Stelle looked up to see Chen Lin sighing. His gaze was fixed on the distant Ambrosial Arbor, his brows furrowed.
“I can feel it. Strange lifeforms are being revived all over the place,” Chen Lin muttered. “Pull yourself together, kid. Your issues—and mine—can wait. Right now, we’ve got bigger problems. The Xianzhou isn’t going to stay peaceful much longer. You know I’m not great in a fight, so I’ll need your help.”
“…Okay.”
Stelle wiped away her frustration and nodded firmly. “I’ll help!”
Nightfall twisted into something unnatural as the Ambrosial Arbor’s divine energy spread across the world. Even in its decayed, rejuvenating state, the marvel it created was reshaping everything around it.
At the edge of the stone platform, roots coiled and surged, scattering golden specks across the ground like ethereal lotus flowers reflecting in water.
As the golden lotuses blossomed, they revealed all manner of creatures: white wolves, ash-gray apes, and writhing vines among them.
Similar scenes unfolded wherever the Ambrosial Arbor’s influence reached.
For most ordinary citizens of the Xianzhou, life under the protection of the Cloud Knights had been peaceful. Their greatest experiences with violence were little more than street brawls or apprehending pickpockets. They had no real combat experience.
Even among the Divination Commission, few were like Fu Xuan, whose prowess could reach the heavens. Most were ordinary bureaucrats, living routine lives, working predictable hours, and subsisting on modest means.
So, when they saw monstrous creatures emerge from the Divination Commission, panic broke out.
Were it not for the discipline and preparedness of the Cloud Knights—trained extensively in maintaining order and protecting civilians—the chaos might have spiraled out of control.
“Cloud Knights, hear my command! Protect the Divination Commission members and eliminate the abominations within their ranks!”
The Cloud Knights had a clear chain of command for emergencies. In crises, the highest-ranking officer present would immediately assume command, with full authority to act decisively. This structure allowed for swift and effective responses to any sudden threat.
Jing Yuan rarely concerned himself with micromanaging the frontline forces. He trusted the ground officers completely and focused instead on overarching strategy. As such, his holographic projection observed the unfolding chaos without interfering.
Fu Xuan’s eyes widened in alarm. “My dear brother is in trouble!”
With a sharp whoosh, Fu Xuan vanished from Jing Yuan’s side.
Jing Yuan watched the escalating battle below, a flicker of anger crossing his otherwise composed face.
The Emanators of Destruction…
Bang!
In his office, Jing Yuan slammed his fist against the desk, shutting off the communications device before standing up.
On his desk sat his personal terminal, preloaded with a scheduled message. Once the time arrived, the message would automatically reach its intended recipients.
For now, Jing Yuan had resolved to visit the Ten Lords Commission in person.
—
At the Divination Commission, a white wolf was sent flying by an explosive device. The beast tumbled through the air before landing awkwardly on its feet, snarling as it recovered.
Chen Lin and Stelle stared, dumbfounded, at Qingque, who had launched the device. She scratched her head, looking somewhat sheepish.
“Huh. Didn’t know the embedded detonation rune was that powerful. Never tested it before…”
Before she could finish muttering, the injured white wolf let out a howl and charged at her with renewed fury, its bloodlust palpable.
Qingque froze for a moment before bolting in the opposite direction without a second thought.
However, as she ran, she noticed something strange: the distance between her and the beast didn’t change. It was as though an unseen force was keeping them equidistant.
Her quick-witted mind caught on immediately. This was Fu Xuan’s doing.
Sure enough, the ground beneath the wolf glowed with an intricate array, and Fu Xuan’s ethereal voice rang out.
“Mind Projection Manifestation!”
The array shattered, along with the wolf’s internal organs.
With a dull thud, the beast collapsed. Nearby, several more creatures staggered and fell, blood oozing from their mouths and noses.
Chen Lin, watching from the rear, blinked in astonishment. He wasn’t new to Fu Xuan’s techniques, but their sheer effectiveness still left him in awe.
“Fu Xuan… You really are something else.”
Ignoring the compliment, Fu Xuan strode forward, her glowing fingertips trailing streams of power. The energy emanating from her was so intense that even Chen Lin couldn’t help but pay closer attention.
The wave of energy she unleashed rivaled the moment of Seele’s initial awakening.
With a final flourish, Fu Xuan completed her hand seals. A massive formation resembling a yin-yang diagram enveloped the entire Divination Commission. The overwhelming pressure drew the attention of both the Ambrosial Arbor’s abominations and every member of the Cloud Knights and Commission staff.
“The cosmos runs on patterns; within the six directions, all can be perceived.”
“All things have their laws, yet fortune and calamity may be swayed.”
“The celestial wolf hunts, and all withers before it. This is… human agency over fate.”
As Fu Xuan spoke the final words of her chant, her voice grew sharper, more commanding. The glowing sphere in her hand spun rapidly, radiating immense energy. It felt as though every anomaly within the Divination Commission was now under her control.
With a deafening boom, a surge of pink-purple flames erupted from the ground, cascading toward the numerous spirit beasts that had spawned.
The radiant light from her third eye blazed fiercely, amplified by the reactivated Matrix of Prescience. Fu Xuan stood at the height of her power, an unstoppable force.
The spirit beasts, still in their nascent stages, were no match for her. They fell one by one, their twisted bodies collapsing or outright exploding, their remains consumed entirely by the surging flames.
However, Fu Xuan intentionally spared a few of the creatures, leaving them to the Cloud Knights as an opportunity to gain battle honors.
In the past, she might have annihilated every enemy without a second thought. But after spending so much time with Chen Lin, she had begun to understand the importance of letting others share in the victories.
Leadership isn’t about doing everything yourself. Otherwise, those under you will feel unnecessary and miss their chances for advancement.
This shift in perspective hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jing Yuan, who had remarked that Fu Xuan had grown more mature—a sentiment perhaps best attributed to her association with Chen Lin.
“Such skill, Lord Diviner!” Qingque exclaimed in awe.
Fu Xuan’s overwhelming power left Qingque in utter admiration. Compared to her own capabilities, Fu Xuan seemed untouchable, worthy of the title Diviner.
“Hmm?” Fu Xuan frowned, her expression darkening as her gaze fell upon a gray ape bounding toward the array’s core. “So, there’s still one left.”
Her annoyance was palpable. She had carefully orchestrated her display of power, and now this stray creature was threatening to ruin it.
Just as she prepared to strike it down, a calm yet forceful voice interrupted her.
“Kill yourself, now.”
A flood of psionic energy surged from Chen Lin, precise and overwhelming, targeting the ape.
The creature’s body convulsed violently. Its blue-gray fur bristled, and its thick, muscular arms bulged grotesquely as veins pulsed beneath its skin.
Fu Xuan felt a chill wash over her as she sensed the strange, unnatural power coursing through the beast.
In mere moments, the ape’s fur began to shed, and its entire body aged at an accelerated rate. Its limbs became gaunt and frail, its flesh decaying visibly as blood poured from its pores.
With a loud thud, the ape collapsed, its fist embedded in its own chest. Organs spilled from the gaping wound as it lay motionless, a grotesque husk of its former self.
Even a casual observer could tell the creature, born from the Ambrosial Arbor’s power, had aged unnaturally and reached the limits of its physical endurance. Unable to bear the strain, it had taken its own life.
Stelle stared in shock, her mouth agape as she looked between the lifeless ape and Chen Lin. Was… was that his doing?
When she turned to him, she saw his face twisted in pain, bloodshot eyes and clenched fists digging into his palms.
“Chen Lin, what’s wrong?!” Stelle cried, rushing to his side.
Her concern wasn’t misplaced. Chen Lin had been inspired by Kafka’s earlier explanation of the future, wondering if he, too, could wield some form of “words of power.”
In that grim vision, he had seemingly used a similar ability. Though he didn’t know when or how he had acquired it, the memory—or possibility—lingered in his mind.
When the ape charged toward the array’s core, he couldn’t resist the urge to test the concept.
After quickly calculating the psionic energy required, he acted on impulse.
The result was as expected: his psionics activated, but the energy cost was astronomical.
Chen Lin had hypothesized two common methods for self-destruction in living organisms. The first was natural death through the exhaustion of the body’s lifespan. The second was suicide triggered by external influence.
While forcing a creature to commit suicide through mental interference seemed simple enough, Chen Lin opted to experiment with the first method—accelerating the ape’s cellular aging to its absolute limit.
The sheer psionic power needed to achieve this overwhelmed him, flooding his body with excruciating pain that nearly caused him to black out.
It was an agony that seemed to stem from every nerve in his brain. If this was how it felt to command such power, Chen Lin mused, perhaps Hua Tuo’s ancient surgical plans would have gained traction. The pain was beyond what any human should endure.
Unable to bear it any longer, Chen Lin forced the ape to self-destruct, halting the uncontrollable outflow of his energy.
As the pain subsided, he collapsed to the ground, his mind reeling from the experience.
The rest of the Astral Express crew were busy assisting the Cloud Knights in clearing the remaining creatures and hadn’t noticed what had transpired.
Sitting on the ground, Chen Lin felt his thoughts scatter like a CPU in overdrive.
Fortunately, Fu Xuan acted quickly, using her own techniques to stabilize his mind and clear the blockage in his consciousness. Gradually, Chen Lin regained clarity.
“Ugh… that was agonizing,” he muttered, wincing.
“Chen Lin! What on earth were you thinking?! You nearly scared me to death!” Fu Xuan exclaimed, her relief tempered by exasperation. Though her voice carried a note of chastisement, her concern was genuine.
“Chen Lin, your eyes looked like they were about to explode! What did you do?” Qingque asked, pointing nervously at the ape’s lifeless corpse.
Stelle quietly rubbed his back, her expression filled with worry.
“I just wanted to try something,” Chen Lin admitted, his voice weak. “Didn’t expect this thing to be so resilient…”
As he explained his experiment, the three women stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.
“Chen Lin… do you even know what that thing was?” Qingque asked, her finger trembling as she pointed at the ape. “If I’m not mistaken, that was one of the Ambrosial Arbor’s ancient war beasts—a Changyou Ape. They were bred thousands of years ago as part of the Xianzhou’s efforts to cultivate rare and powerful creatures. Like the Xianzhou people, they’re practically immortal. They don’t age, let alone die of old age! And you… you tried to make it grow old?! Are you insane?”
Fu Xuan crossed her arms, her tone stern. “I have no comment, but Chen Lin, you were reckless this time.”
“I just wanted to try…” Chen Lin muttered.
Stelle, however, glanced at the ape’s corpse and asked hesitantly, “But… doesn’t it look like it aged naturally? Its fur is so dull, and its body is so… old.”
Fu Xuan and Qingque both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief.
“?!”
—
T/N: bro really told an immortal being to kill itself by aging and SUCCEEDED?
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!
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.