Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [355]

Seele had initially held some reservations about this matter. However, upon considering that the girl—who hardly seemed like a proper person—was actually a friend of Chen Lin’s, she chose to set those concerns aside for now.

After all, when it came to truly important matters, she would always report directly to Chen Lin. Unless he chose to pass the information along, none of it would enter Qlipoth Fort’s archives for the time being.

The chain of information had shifted from Frontlines → Qlipoth Fort → Chen Lin to Frontlines → Chen Lin → Qlipoth Fort.

Bronya never interfered with external military operations, but any high-priority matters that did require her attention still had to be reviewed and approved by Chen Lin before they could be executed.

This meant that, as Governor, he had full authority over what information was shared—and with whom.

It wasn’t just an empty phrase when people said Chen Lin had the final say on all foreign affairs. The power structure simply worked that way. More importantly, everyone accepted this centralized system of authority.

The reality was that the entirety of the Jarilo sector operated under Chen Lin’s rule alone!

Chen Lin cast a glance at Li Sushang, who was standing by the holographic star map, peering around like a wide-eyed child marveling at a new toy. Then, leaning closer to Seele, he murmured meaningfully, “Gotta give people a little free time, no? Pouring your whole life into work without rest—day in, day out—that’s not exactly in line with our ‘6+6+6+6’ work policy.”

From the corner of the office, where the break area was, wisps of steam curled from a cup of hot tea.

Seele blinked in surprise.

Chen Lin’s words came with a light, relaxed breeze, and the amused smile on his face struck straight to her core.

Brother Lin, Brother Lin… You smell really nice.

Seele froze for half a second, then violently shook the thought from her head. She quickly steadied herself, but fearing that her brief lapse in composure had been noticed, she lowered her head and muttered under her breath, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chen Lin casually grabbed a stack of documents from the table and covered his face with them. “Back in the day, The Empire’s bandit chiefs would hand out masks like these to their underlings. They’d ride into town, rob people blind, and no one would ever recognize them afterward.”

Seele tilted her head in suspicion. “I mean… sure, but wouldn’t they be unable to see where they were going?”

Lowering the papers, Chen Lin grinned. “That’s fine. Whether they can see or not doesn’t matter. As long as the horse knows where to go, the robbery will take care of itself.”

“…?”

What the hell is Brother Lin even talking about now?

If the horse could see but the bandits couldn’t, then wouldn’t it be more accurate to say the horse was robbing people, not the bandits?

And what kind of training turned a mount into a criminal?!

As Seele scratched her head, trying to make sense of his logic, Chen Lin shifted his attention to Li Sushang and began explaining their next steps.

Since communicating with the L-Drake required a delicate approach, the entire fleet couldn’t just charge in at once. They would have to halt at a certain distance to avoid startling the creature.

Because of this, Chen Lin’s transport vessel would have to break away from the main fleet and proceed alone.

Of course, he already knew that, in the game, the L-Drake would always be successfully tamed—Paradox Interactive hadn’t even bothered to code in a fail condition. As long as the player didn’t attack, the L-Drake would not retaliate.

Still, reality was far less predictable.

No matter how confident he was in the outcome, there were too many variables in a real-world scenario. Chen Lin couldn’t rule out the possibility of something going wrong.

To minimize potential casualties, the transport vessel would launch with only a skeleton crew—just enough to operate the ship. And since Li Sushang had to accompany him, she had every right to know the full details.

As he finished his explanation, Chen Lin turned his gaze to the Xianzhou girl.

“That’s the basic plan. Here are some photos of the L-Drake… Any thoughts?”

Not that it matters—even if you have thoughts, just keep them to yourself.

Of course, he didn’t say that part out loud.

Li Sushang stared blankly at her master, completely frozen in place, as if she had been scared stiff.

For a long moment, she didn’t move at all.

Then, she cautiously lifted her head.

“…M-Master…”

“What? Are you scared?”

“No, not scared.”

Li Sushang shook her head firmly, her long brown hair swaying with the motion. A few strands brushed against her delicate cheeks, but the excitement in her eyes had already begun to surface.

“Master, if you manage to tame it, can I take a picture with it? I wanna send it to my mom and show her how awesome her daughter is now!”

“……”

You really are something else. No normal person would even think of doing this.

Chen Lin was silent for a moment before saying, “Alright.”

“Master, you’re the best!”

His silly little apprentice was beyond delighted. It had been a long time since she last contacted her family—not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t dare to.

She hadn’t forgotten the grand ambitions she had boldly declared to her mother before leaving home. But during her time in Luofu, she hadn’t really accomplished anything worth bragging about. Reaching out to her family without any achievements to show for it just felt… embarrassing.

But now, she was about to accompany her master in making contact with a mysterious celestial dragon—one he fully intended to tame. And even though she wasn’t exactly playing a leading role in this, she was still participating in some capacity.

For Li Sushang, this was a huge step toward her dreams, even in the mere two hundred years of life she had behind her!

Taking a commemorative photo after their success seemed completely reasonable, right?

As for the danger… Well, her master might be a bit strict, a bit cunning… and, well, a bit too good-looking—

Cough, cough.

But—more than anything, Li Sushang knew that no matter what happened, if the sky did come crashing down, her master would find a way to hold it up for her.

That’s what trust meant.

Chen Lin appreciated her trust. Then, he asked Seele to call in the adjutant and have her take Li Sushang over to the army’s transport division to observe and learn how to pilot a small transport vessel.

Officially, he told her that if she couldn’t learn it properly, she’d be punished when they got back.

In reality, he just wanted to punish her and was making up an excuse.

With a miserable look on her face, Li Sushang was dragged off by the adjutant. Seele, meanwhile, had to oversee emergency planning with the fleet.

And just like that, Chen Lin was left alone in the office.

“…Pleasure, huh? If you really think about it, that concept is way too broad.”

His thoughts drifted to the Masked Fool he had left back at Qlipoth Fort. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t see where exactly she was finding enjoyment in all this.

If Sparkle was truly interested in the L-Gate, she would have long since found a way to come to the L-Cluster herself. She wouldn’t need to stay by his side.

Especially considering that he had gone out of his way to create multiple opportunities for her—giving her plenty of ways to maneuver, plenty of stepping stones to advance. He had even played along, letting her get closer.

But not once had she taken a step forward.

Chen Lin really didn’t get it.

Was she plotting something against him?

If that were the case, he had left plenty of openings for her to exploit, yet she never made a move. Sparkle just carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary—eating, drinking, and going about her day without the slightest sign of ill intent.

Was she trying to sabotage something?

That didn’t make sense either. He had granted her unrestricted access to Qlipoth Fort. With the Masked Fools’ skills, there wasn’t a single act of sabotage she couldn’t pull off under these conditions. If she couldn’t manage anything with that level of access, there was no way the Xianzhou would have rated her as such a high-level threat.

No matter how he turned it over in his mind, Chen Lin still had no idea what Sparkle’s actual goal was.

What exactly is she trying to do…?

The two of them had already spent quite some time interacting.

Even though Sparkle continued playing the role of Silver Wolf, maintaining that persona with remarkable consistency, Chen Lin had started to pick up on subtle inconsistencies.

Performance.

That alone said a lot.

Chen Lin had once known a junior who behaved in a similar way—someone who, in both daily life and work, carried themselves with an almost flawless demeanor.

But true perfection doesn’t exist.

When Chen Lin realized this, he began paying closer attention to them, indirectly gathering information from others who had known this junior at different stages of their life.

Strangely enough, the accounts he heard were completely contradictory.

Not just subjectively different, but outright polar opposites.

Some described them as a reckless spender, while others insisted they were financially struggling.

Some claimed they were a natural-born leader, while others swore they were meek and hesitant.

The more pieces he gathered, the clearer the picture became—and the final conclusion was something that made Chen Lin shake his head with a wry smile.

That junior’s childhood, middle school, high school, and even university years had all been a complete disaster.

Every time they advanced to a new stage of life, they would absorb the lessons from their past failures and do their best to construct a flawless persona—an ideal version of themselves that they believed others wanted to see.

Because of this, people who had known them at different points in time often gave conflicting evaluations. This pattern continued until university, where things finally began to stabilize—because by then, this junior had truly become popular.

And from that point on, they stopped changing.

It wasn’t until one particular semester—when Chen Lin’s mentor happened to be away on a business trip—that he was handed a list of potential students to mentor in his place.

That was when he met this junior in person.

They were too perfect. So perfect, in fact, that it was unnatural.

It was like watching a veteran actor play their role in a meticulously written script.

The characters within the story might not notice anything unusual.

But the audience would watch from beyond the screen and applaud—marveling at the sheer brilliance of their performance.

And the price of that performance?

From what Chen Lin had learned, this junior had grown up in a deeply dysfunctional household.

As a child, they had suffered frequent abuse at the hands of their parents. Divorce had always loomed as a constant threat in their home.

But they didn’t want their parents to separate.

So, at a young age, they learned to act.

They became whatever was needed to hold their fragile family together.

“…Sigh.”

Chen Lin exhaled softly. He had no judgment to offer on the matter.

The reason this memory surfaced was, of course, related to Sparkle, the Masked Fools who had embedded herself at his side.

Sparkle was the same way. Her portrayal of Silver Wolf—her mannerisms, gestures, speech patterns, and even subtle habitual movements—were all eerily identical. If Chen Lin hadn’t personally dealt with Silver Wolf’s antics before, he might not have thought twice about calling her a pro-gamer.

He had to admit, as a Masked Fool, Sparkle was absurdly dedicated to her craft. If she ever decided to become an actress, it wouldn’t take long before she rose to galactic superstardom.

Being just a fun-seeker was a complete waste of her talent.

And yet, it was precisely this level of commitment that allowed Chen Lin to gradually pick up on inconsistencies through repeated tests.

The better someone was at staying in character even in daily life, the more likely they were to have an empty core. And the emptier they were inside, the greater the thrill they needed to fill that void.

Sampo had once said that she didn’t know when to stop. Maybe this was part of the reason why.

But that raised a different question—who was Sparkle, really?

Right now, she was playing Silver Wolf. But when she removed her mask, when she shed her role—who was she then?

“…Why does someone have such an overwhelming desire to perform?”

Chen Lin absentmindedly stroked his chin as he murmured the thought aloud. Beside him, the warmth of his untouched drink slowly faded—like a forgotten alley corner swallowed by time.

Only darkness remained.

It was the sound of Seele’s adjutant knocking on the door that finally pulled him from his thoughts.

The adjutant stood straight-backed, saluted, and reported, “Governor, the transport vessel is ready.”

“I see.”

Chen Lin nodded and chuckled. “By the way, you might want to phrase that differently next time. That wording isn’t exactly auspicious.”

“?”

The adjutant watched in confusion as Chen Lin stepped out of the office, utterly baffled.

What’s so unlucky about saying that…?

Still, she quickly composed herself and caught up, falling half a step behind him to lead the way.

This star system wasn’t particularly large. With the current propulsion capabilities of their warships, reaching any given point here would take only three to four hours at most—let alone when the fleet was already stationed in the system’s center.

As a result, the fleet had long since approached the L-Drake, stopping at a distance that wouldn’t be seen as threatening. Only after the army’s warships had dispatched the requested transport vessel, and it had undergone the necessary inspections and maintenance, did the adjutant come to notify Chen Lin.

With all preparations complete, the three of them boarded the transport vessel and departed from the cruiser via the lower transfer bay.

The Jarilo Army had its own fleet, though its primary role was to deploy troops and ground combat equipment to planetary battlefields. To maintain mobility and accommodate land-based forces, these ships weren’t heavily armed—mostly outfitted with general defensive systems and, at most, a pair of anti-air cannons for self-defense during navigation.

After all, what kind of idiot would send an army transport vessel into a dangerous star system without fleet support?

Certainly not Chen Lin.

Inside the transport vessel, Li Sushang was experiencing the wonders of a hyperdrive engine for the first time. She pressed herself against the window, her pale cheeks pressed against the cold glass, golden eyes gleaming as they reflected the fantastical starlight outside.

Her slightly parted lips gave the impression that she wanted to inhale every bit of this breathtaking sight, to engrave it deep into her heart.

“…Master…”

Chen Lin, eyes closed, hummed a response. “Hm?”

Li Sushang sighed. “The stars here are so… quiet.”

Chen Lin: “……”

Why does everyone insist on saying ominous things around me?!

“In Luofu, you’d never see a scene like this. There are commercial ships coming and going everywhere—you even have to queue up at the Jade Gate just to enter. It’s always bustling.”

She turned back with a grin and added, “Shimu, you should visit sometime! I’ll treat you to a tour—Xianzhou folks are super hospitable!”

Seele paused. Now that she thought about it, she’d never actually visited any other civilizations. At most, she had flown over a few, but she’d never set foot in them.

She had heard plenty of praise about Luofu’s tourism scene, though.

The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Smiling, she nodded. “Sure! When I get a day off, I’ll grab a destroyer that’s off-duty, and we’ll jump over together!”

Chen Lin internally groaned. That’s gonna give Luofu all kinds of unnecessary misunderstandings…

“That’s great!” Li Sushang beamed. “I’ll take you to try all the street food and watch some acrobatics!”

She added enthusiastically, “I just so happen to know someone who’s really skilled at it! I’ll ask her to show you her signature routine!”

“What kind of acrobatics?”

Just like that, the two girls began chattering away, clearly hitting it off.

Li Sushang hadn’t expected that her usually aloof Shimu would turn out to be so easy to talk to.

Chen Lin, meanwhile, was content watching these two—who, in some ways, were eerily similar—bond over food and entertainment.

Especially when they started talking about a certain high-ranking official who practically lived off a particular drink…

Before they knew it, the transport vessel had reached its destination—

And there, staring blankly at a desolate planet, was the L-Drake.

---

T/N: oh oops yeah Shifu last chapter is Shimu is a term of respect of your teachers wife

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!