Neither the Six Commissions nor the Ten Lords Commission had any real intention of interfering. They were simply following protocol in handling Chen Lin’s case, going through the motions as required.
To many outsiders, the Xianzhou belonged to the Xianzhou people. No matter how much Chen Lin had done to save it from catastrophe, he was still an outsider in their eyes. From their perspective, the only acknowledgment he received was a symbolic gift from Jing Yuan—one that carried more meaning than actual value.
Perhaps there were some minor political considerations involved, but only a little.
His friends had been pardoned, no longer exiled. His own deeds would be recorded and passed down by the Xianzhou authorities. That, it seemed, was the extent of the Xianzhou Alliance’s compensation.
The Arbor?
A dried-up tree that the Xianzhou people found to be an eyesore on their way to and from work. A landmark so unremarkable that even passing tourists rarely spared it a second glance. Gone? So be it.
The Stellaron?
Better off destroyed. Not only did it prevent countless people from succumbing to the demonic affliction, but with Luofu’s lockdown lifted, a multitude of merchants could now resume making fortunes.
The Lord Ravager, Phantylia?
The authorities hadn’t said a word about it, which likely meant it had been defeated. Even if it hadn’t perished outright, it must have been driven away. Once the officials finished handling the more immediate crises, they would eventually issue a formal statement.
The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, the revival of the Arbor, the Lord Ravager—
One calamity after another had befallen Luofu, only to be resolved in turn. The people, along with most government officials, were basking in their hard-won victory, oblivious to the mysteries lurking beneath the surface.
In truth… where had the Arbor gone? Was Phantylia truly dead? These were the questions that interested those watching the Xianzhou from the shadows.
More critically, with the public’s attention successfully diverted, there were few left who even cared. The Luofu authorities simply had to maintain their silence and wait for the topic to fade from memory. In the end, all that people would remember was that a governor from the Empire had fought desperately to save Luofu from disaster. Nothing more.
—
Over the past few days, Chen Lin had met with numerous individuals and attended an untold number of public meetings convened by Jing Yuan and Luofu’s officials. Finally, the details of the proposed initiatives had been settled, allowing him a brief respite. At last, he could return to the Astral Express.
He wasn’t alone. Jing Yuan accompanied him, along with Fu Xuan, who was now acting as the interim General, shouldering a significant portion of Luofu’s administrative burden.
Aside from Fu Xuan, the Express crew had been the first to learn of his safe return. He had already visited the train to reassure his friends, easing the long-standing guilt weighing on Welt. The veteran Express member had breathed a sigh of relief and given Chen Lin a warm welcome home.
At present, the Express remained docked at Luofu’s port. Countless starships, laden with goods, were departing through the Yujing Gate, their destinations unknown. No one could predict when—or where—they would next find safe harbor.
—
“In this flourishing hub of commerce, financial greed has not yet eroded human connection. Compared to the towering steel cities elsewhere, the people of Luofu maintain a uniquely intricate web of social ties.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? The outside world is rife with rumors about the so-called ambitions of the Xianzhou Alliance, but in truth, they’re simply fighting for the dignity of survival…”
In the train’s lounge, Himeko casually sipped her coffee, exchanging idle conversation with Welt, who was engrossed in his newspaper.
Nearby, Pom-Pom was diligently wiping down every nook and cranny of the Express—an everyday occurrence aboard the train.
Mid-sip, Himeko suddenly paused. She and Welt turned toward the entrance of the train as a few figures appeared in the doorway.
Setting down her cup, Himeko stood up with a welcoming smile.
“Little Lin, welcome back… General, Master Diviner, apologies for not coming to greet you in advance.”
“There’s no need for such formality, Miss Himeko. I’ve long wanted to visit the Express, but I was… unwell for some time. I only managed to come now, haha. I hope we’re not intruding.”
Jing Yuan chuckled, but Fu Xuan merely shot him a sidelong glance.
“Hmph. More like someone finally found an excuse to slack off.”
Himeko took the opportunity to smooth things over, beginning to prepare tea. “Health takes precedence over work, General. Though the Xianzhou has survived its tribulation, if you don’t take care of yourself, the soldiers of Luofu may lose their pillar of support. That would be far too great a loss.”
“Indeed,” Jing Yuan nodded in agreement. “I won’t drag out pleasantries. The Astral Express lent great aid to Luofu in its time of crisis. The Alliance follows a simple principle—repay kindness in kind, and settle grievances as they come. So, please accept this humble token of gratitude.”
With those words, Fu Xuan presented an exquisitely crafted jade talisman.
“This jade talisman is imbued with numerous formations. No matter where you are, activating it will transmit a recording directly to the Luofu Cloud Knights’ command system. Should you encounter a particularly troublesome foe, the nearest Cloud Knights will immediately mobilize to provide assistance.”
Jing Yuan hadn’t elaborated, but the implications were clear to all present.
This talisman was vastly different from the one he had given to Chen Lin with great fanfare. The priority level and political ramifications were entirely distinct. The Express crew had been given a means to request aid from Luofu, a sign of mutual assistance between allies. But Chen Lin’s talisman carried far deeper political significance…
Politics was a web of interwoven links, each decision capable of triggering severe consequences. While both talismans theoretically served the same purpose—calling for reinforcements—their true impact was worlds apart.
Himeko accepted the gift with due solemnity.
“On behalf of the Express crew, I thank you for this generous gesture. Should Luofu ever require our assistance, please do not hesitate to ask—we will do what we can to help.”
Jing Yuan glanced at Chen Lin before smiling. “Well then, I won’t keep you from your reunion. My dear brother, Fu Xuan and I will be waiting outside.”
It was only after the two had left that Himeko finally brought over the freshly brewed tea. She watched Chen Lin’s expression shift between emotions before smiling faintly, choosing to remain silent.
Nearby, Welt appeared absorbed in his newspaper, though his gaze hadn’t truly been on the pages for quite some time…
Many passengers had come and gone from the Astral Express. And yet, this particular young man—mature beyond his years—held a special place in Welt’s heart. But he knew better than to force a decision upon him. Everyone aboard the Express was free to choose their own path.
To keep someone against their will for the sake of companionship? That was meaningless. It would contradict the very ideals Welt had upheld since the day he first set foot on the train.
And so, he buried his urge to persuade and simply watched in silence.
Himeko gently pushed a cup toward Chen Lin.
“Little Lin, this is the tea you bought back then. I followed the tutorial videos for quite some time before I finally got it right. I may not be an expert, but this was brewed with my own hands.”
Chen Lin took a sip before finally speaking, almost as if to himself.
“Rich as always, full of character… But, Uncle Yang, why the long face? Did I ever say I was getting off here? I only came to request a short leave.”
“Hahahaha…”
Himeko chuckled, glancing at Welt. “See? I told you he wouldn’t just up and leave. You were worrying for nothing.”
“…Ahem.”
Welt cleared his throat and set his newspaper aside. “Still, the train won’t be departing anytime soon. It looks like we’ll be staying in Luofu for quite some time…”
—
As Chen Lin skimmed through the reports, his expression darkened. Until he reached the final pages.
His eyes widened in shock at the blurred images attached to the report—images taken at the cost of tens of thousands of researchers’ lives.
Despite the poor resolution, he recognized the ominous silhouette immediately.
— L-Gate!
—
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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