When it came down to it, the Phantylia-controlled husks scattered across the battlefield were nothing more than pawns she had planted on the Xianzhou. Despite being vastly superior to the Mara-struck remnants of the Disciple Sanctus in both physical and magical capability, they still couldn’t stand against the Xianzhou’s overwhelming numbers and superior strategy.
Fu Xuan’s clever manipulation of her signature formations, both offensive and defensive, brought about effective results, though only she knew the cost of maintaining them. Meanwhile, the Astral Express crew wasn’t sitting idle—Welt in particular was holding back a significant portion of his power to prevent collateral damage. Even so, the devastation he caused far exceeded the chaos wrought by the enemies themselves, proving his earlier promise: Even against an Aeon’s might, the Express Crew will stand firm.
If an Abundance Emanator dared appear, he was confident he could protect his team.
Once Jing Yuan, Chen Lin, and Dan Heng joined the battle, the tide turned decisively. What little resistance the husks had put up collapsed within ten minutes. Nearly a hundred Phantylia pawns were reduced to ash, and the Xianzhou regained control of the Abyssal Depths’ main entrance.
Fu Xuan stormed up to Jing Yuan, her face livid. “Finally! You decided to show up!”
As he wiped his blade clean of ichor, Jing Yuan gave her a resigned smile. “Yes, yes. This is entirely my fault as the General. Truly, this victory is owed to your brilliant strategy, Fu Xuan. But now isn’t the time to tally merits. Phantylia’s schemes clearly target the Ambrosial Arbor. After fighting your way here, do you have any clues as to her ultimate goal?”
Fu Xuan’s fury simmered as she struggled to direct her frustration. It wasn’t that Jing Yuan had ignored her entirely—he had read every battle report she sent. But his whereabouts during the key moments of the Alchemy Commission’s rebellion and Phantylia’s appearance were shrouded in mystery. Now he had the gall to act as though nothing were amiss.
“Hmph. Her intentions are obvious: to corrupt the Arbor and unleash its pestilent might to plague the Xianzhou,” Fu Xuan snapped. “After her initial appearance, she attempted to sow discord among our ranks by vanishing with Tingyun’s body. She sought to make us suspicious of each other—an insidious strategy that nearly worked.”
Jing Yuan frowned. “I reviewed the Xianzhou’s archives on Phantylia during my journey here. She’s known for her cunning—turning allies against each other to claim victory without lifting a finger. It’s commendable that you recognized this and thwarted it. That said… spreading Arbor corruption doesn’t align with her modus operandi. There’s more to this than meets the eye.”
“General, are you serious?”
At that moment, Welt joined the discussion, his deep voice commanding attention. “The General’s assessment is accurate. I’ve heard similar accounts from other Nameless. Each of the Aeons’ Envoys adheres to their Aeon’s philosophy. Phantylia’s ‘aesthetic’ of destruction is about making her enemies destroy themselves. Corrupting the Arbor and unleashing plague—these are acts of desperation, not artistry.”
Jing Yuan nodded gravely. “The power of the Paths binds even the Aeons. Phantylia cannot act against her nature. Whatever her plan is, it will adhere to the laws of her Path.”
Fu Xuan inhaled sharply, her mind racing. “If that’s true… what is her true aim? We’ve disrupted the Alchemy Commission’s rebellion. Could I have overlooked something?”
“Seeds,” Chen Lin interjected suddenly.
The group turned to him, Fu Xuan looking especially impatient. “What do you mean by that?”
“The seeds of doubt,” Chen Lin explained. “Let me break it down. The Alchemy Commission’s ‘rebellion’ was little more than a shadow of its former self—an old name resurrected under Dan Shu’s leadership. That they managed to survive so long is surprising enough, but their actions caused significant harm to the Xianzhou, no matter how ineffective they were.
“Now consider this: the rebellion and its failure won’t make the Xianzhou people fearful of dissent. If anything, it’s planted a seed of distrust. How many Xianzhou citizens will start questioning the loyalty of their neighbors—or the competence of the Cloud Knights?”
Fu Xuan hesitated. “Sealing the news and forbidding discussion isn’t impossible—”
“Fu Jie,” Chen Lin interrupted, reaching out to pinch her cheek with a cheeky grin. “Do you realize what kind of message that would send? To neutral parties, or those with even a slight inclination toward the Path of Abundance, it would reek of a cover-up.”
Fu Xuan froze, stunned. She forgot to swat away Chen Lin’s hand, staring wide-eyed as his words sank in.
Jing Yuan, meanwhile, recalled something Chen Lin had given him earlier. “Your token… Was this your intent, Brother?”
“Exactly.” Chen Lin released Fu Xuan’s cheek, looking smug. “If the Xianzhou wants to break the cycle of doubt and suspicion, they need to take control of the narrative. Take that token and create a fake Alchemy Commission—one loyal to the Xianzhou. Use it to spread controlled information and root out dissent. I’m sure the Xianzhou can fake a Mara-struck visage well enough to convince the public.”
Satisfied, Chen Lin patted Fu Xuan’s cheek lightly. “By the way, Fu Jie, you should eat more meat. Your cheeks are too thin—hardly satisfying to pinch.”
Fu Xuan’s face darkened. “You think there will be a next time?!” she snapped. “Fine. I’ll let this go because you came up with a decent plan. But don’t push your luck!”
Chen Lin raised his voice dramatically. “A plan? The real issue isn’t resolved yet—Phantylia is still at the Arbor!”
“Oh… right,” Fu Xuan muttered, sheepishly rubbing her face. “Chen Lin, do you have any theories about what she’s planning to do there?”
Chen Lin shook his head. “Not a clue. Guess we’ll figure it out as we go.”
Fu Xuan looked exasperated, but Jing Yuan smiled knowingly. Phantylia’s ability to manipulate emotions and sow distrust had already been neutralized by Chen Lin’s foresight. Even if she revealed secrets, no one would believe her.
Jing Yuan turned to Dan Heng, his tone shifting. “Do you know, Dan Feng, that when you committed your crime, the Ten Lords Commission was adamant about having you destroyed? Half of the Vidyadhara elders wanted you dead, while the other half wanted you exiled. It was a spectacle—one I’ll never forget.”
Dan Heng stiffened but said nothing.
“Come with me,” Jing Yuan said, motioning for the others to leave. “The elders hated you for halting the Legacy. They wanted to execute you but didn’t dare. In the end, they used a flawed technique to forcibly strip your horns—knowing full well the consequences.”
As Jing Yuan led Dan Heng away, he began recounting the history of the Abyssal Depths and the dragons who had guarded it for centuries. Dan Heng remained silent, but the memories Jing Yuan’s words triggered were enough to make his head throb painfully.
Meanwhile, March and the others stood with Chen Lin, watching from a distance.
“Wait, what?! Dragon Sovereign?!” March exclaimed. “So, Dan Heng… evolved?”
“Not really,” Chen Lin said with a laugh. “He’s still Dan Heng. But his connection to the Xianzhou and my brother is complicated. Jing Yuan is helping him recover his memories and powers. Otherwise, we can’t unlock this place—it’s sealed by the Sovereigns’ power.”
March frowned. “So… if he decides to stay here, what happens? Will we ever see him again?”
Chen Lin sighed. “That’s his decision to make. Everyone on the Astral Express is free to choose their path. If he stays, I’ll visit him when I can.” He smiled faintly, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“You’re just going to let him go?” March asked.
“March,” Welt interjected, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He has the freedom to choose, just as we all do. It’s like when we vote on our next destination—everyone has a say in their journey.”
Chen Lin turned toward Welt. “What about what we discussed earlier? Are you still against it?”
Welt shook his head. “No. After everything we’ve seen, I’ve realized that overthinking can lead to hesitation. If I have the power to protect people, I’ll use it, even if it costs me everything.”
March, latching onto a single word, asked, “Wait, lawyer? Is that what you used to be, Uncle Yang? Like, a real lawyer?”
Welt froze, cursing himself silently. “…Yes. I used to be a lawyer.”
Chen Lin’s bemused glance reminded Welt of their private conversation about the truth of his past. Some secrets are best kept vague.
Fu Xuan suddenly appeared, grabbing Chen Lin by the sleeve and dragging him aside.
“What’s up, Fu Jie?”
She pulled him into a secluded corner and whispered, “That friend of yours… Dan Heng. Is he really the Dragon Sovereign?”
“If Jing Yuan’s right, then yes,” Chen Lin admitted. “He’s been calling him Dan Feng the entire time, though Dan Heng doesn’t like it.”
Fu Xuan huffed. “That bad-tempered General kept this from me! If I hadn’t overheard, I’d still be in the dark. Learn from this, Chen Lin—don’t take after him!”
“…You could’ve just joined the conversation.”
“A Taixu Arbiter doesn’t ‘chat’ casually!”
“…Fu Jie, you need to lighten up.”
“Do you want me to hit you?!”
Before their bickering could escalate, a group of Cloud Knights rushed over, panic etched across their faces.
“Arbiter Fu! General Jing Yuan! Lord Chen Lin! A group of Vidyadhara elders is here, and they’re demanding an audience. They claim you’ve overstepped your authority!”
Fu Xuan’s expression darkened. “How dare they! Do they think they can question us? This is treason!”
—
T/N: jie is sister
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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