Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [327]

Do nanorobots have a lifespan limit?

Could they, for instance… die of old age?

Chen Lin found that highly unlikely.

In the game, the nanorobots inside the L-Gates were created by a civilization called "Dessanu". However, it was unclear whether their initial purpose was to craft a more perfect form of life or simply to fulfill military and societal demands.

Regardless of their intent, nanorobots were inextricably linked to nanofactories.

That meant they shouldn’t be capable of self-replication, let alone aging to death.

If that was the case, then why had all the nanorobots inside these modified victims suddenly broken down?

Chen Lin could believe that cybernetic lifeforms controlled by nanorobots would die—but he wasn’t foolish enough to think that the death of their bodies somehow triggered the death of the nanorobots inside them.

That would be reversing cause and effect!

This was precisely why he was fixated on the unexpected deaths of the nanorobots themselves.

Losing a few dozen? Normal.
Losing a few hundred thousand? Still reasonable.
But every single nanorobot in a host body breaking down at once? Now that was suspicious. What were the odds?

"There are two possible explanations for this," Chen Lin said, raising two fingers.

"One—every single nanorobot within this civilization, numbering in the trillions upon trillions, simultaneously suffered from structural degradation and failure at the exact same moment."

"Two—the nanorobots were all controlled by a centralized data system, which issued a faulty command, causing them to self-destruct."

"…The problem is, neither of these explanations fully convinces me."

With that, he shook his head in frustration.

The first theory had absurdly low odds, to the point where even adding a billion decimal places wouldn’t make it plausible.

The second theory was slightly more believable—except for one glaring issue.

Based on the retrieved nanorobot corpses, these weren’t just malfunctioning remains. They looked shattered, like mangled bodies after a brutal assault.

Could a central control system error really cause this level of physical destruction?

Probably not…

Fu Xuan, clad in her rosy pink robes, folded her arms and withdrew her gaze. Her usual stern expression remained unchanged as she gently rubbed her chin with two fingers—like a solitary winter plum standing against the cold.

"I examined the remains carefully," she said. "Even after reconstructing several mechanical corpses, I wouldn’t say they 'broke down on their own'—it’s more accurate to say they were forcefully dismantled by an external impact."

"An impact that precisely targeted nanorobots—microscopic entities embedded inside organic flesh—and did so across the entire affected population at the same time…"

Chen Lin narrowed his eyes.

"Sis, have you considered how insanely difficult that would be?"

"…"

Fu Xuan remained silent.

Of course, she understood the astronomical difficulty of such a feat.

As one of Luofu’s top martial experts, Fu Xuan was certainly powerful—but at her core, her true profession wasn’t much different from that of a scientist from Jarilo-VI.

She was, fundamentally, a researcher.

So, the moment Chen Lin posed that question, she realized it was an impossibility. Her words faltered.

Chen Lin sighed.

"This disaster is similar to what’s documented in the Empire’s archives, but aside from the type of threat, every other detail is completely different."

"I misjudged the situation."

Empire’s Archives (✖)
Game Memory (✔)

Chen Lin had shared information about L-Gates before, though he had altered the storyline to some extent. However, the general principles were the same, which was why Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan had dared to investigate in the first place.

So many Cloud Knights had died because of this.

Chen Lin had to take responsibility for his misinformation.

He should have realized the L-Gates weren’t that simple. Yet, he had underestimated the danger.

Experience-based assumptions… are deadly.

"It’s fine," Jing Yuan reassured, standing up and handing Chen Lin a document.

"Intelligence from the past is only useful as a reference—miscalculations are to be expected. You don’t need to blame yourself."

"This outcome was within my expectations. The losses remain within acceptable limits."

Chen Lin took the file and skimmed through it.

It was a contingency plan Jing Yuan had prepared when deploying the reconnaissance unit.

The document outlined every foreseeable scenario and corresponding countermeasure.

Even the worst-case projections included estimates of casualties, and yet—despite encountering a situation far worse than planned—60% of the Cloud Knights survived.

That was a miracle.

If things had gone any worse… the entire unit would have been wiped out, leaving zero valuable intelligence behind.

Jing Yuan took a sip of tea. His eyes, though weary, held a subtle smile.

"Every Cloud Knight who took on this mission knew they were putting their lives on the line."

"They swore to defend the Xianzhou with their lives."

Chen Lin fell silent for a moment, then glanced at him.

Suddenly, he understood.

He let out a soft chuckle and nodded.

"Good."

Jing Yuan’s meaning was clear—he wasn’t blaming Chen Lin.

Because in any real investigation, prior knowledge could only serve as a guideline. If you blindly copied and pasted from old information, then stepping on a landmine was your own fault.

In times of crisis, cooperation and adaptability were key.

That applied to Chen Lin.
That applied to Jing Yuan.

Besides, the scale of their secret plan now involved entire civilizations.

There was no reason for Chen Lin to lie—he simply provided what he knew, and the final decisions always rested with Jing Yuan.

If Chen Lin had been in charge, he would have been even more cautious.

That was the difference between using experience as a reference and blindly following it.

Jing Yuan’s words not only absolved Chen Lin of blame, but also provided him with an out—a way to move forward without lingering doubts.

"Brother," Chen Lin said, glancing at the incense burner in the hall. He ran his fingers over the thick snow-white tablecloth and continued,

"I want to go there myself.

The intelligence we have is too incomplete.

That place might hold more clues—things we haven’t yet discovered."

"Absolutely not!"

Fu Xuan’s sharp gaze flickered, and she snapped,

"The Nano Nebula could re-envelop the area at any moment! This is far too dangerous!"

"Brother, how can you risk yourself like this?!"

Was he kidding?!

It wasn’t just a question of whether or not he could go—it was a question of what would happen if something happened to him!

Chen Lin wasn’t just anyone.

If he suffered any kind of accident, who could possibly predict the consequences?

No matter what, Fu Xuan could not support the idea of a leader personally heading to the front lines.

It was unacceptable—the cost was simply too high.

Jing Yuan didn’t immediately respond.

But his expression visibly shifted—as if he hadn’t expected Chen Lin to make such a request at all.

For as long as he had known him, Chen Lin had always been acutely aware of his own importance.

It wasn’t like him to make reckless decisions like this.

After Fu Xuan finished speaking, Jing Yuan raised a hand to calm the situation. “Diviner Fu, why not listen to our virtuous brother’s explanation before making a judgment? What do you think?”

He didn’t believe Chen Lin would make such a foolish mistake.

To his credit, Jing Yuan’s guess was spot on—Chen Lin had his own considerations for wanting to personally set out, which was why he had proposed such a risky course of action.

If his deduction was correct, he was likely the only person in this universe who had crossed over with Stellaris’ UI. And with Stellaris in his hands, every action he took would inevitably trigger an immeasurable butterfly effect.

His very presence here was an absolute anomaly.

This unique ability gave him an entirely different perspective on the problem. Chen Lin wanted to place a bet—a gamble that, much like a newly ascended civilization stepping through an L-gate for the first time, he could use his unique nature to uncover hidden information within the civilization that had been eroded by the nano nebula.

Discover, investigate… and ultimately, reach a conclusion.

In theory, Chen Lin believed it was feasible. And as the one who had brought Stellaris into this world, he might just be the best experimental subject for collecting this kind of data.

Would a science ship work?

Maybe.

But the warp drive on his science ship was still on cooldown. By the time they traveled to Xianzhou Luofu, several days might have already passed. Chen Lin didn’t want to wait. Given the principle of proximity, the best option for now was for him to go in person.

He immediately presented his reasoning.
“My intuition tells me this will work.”

Jing Yuan: “?”

Fu Xuan: “?”

Yanqing: “…”

A brief silence followed.

Jing Yuan cleared his throat, pondered for a moment, and then asked, “Based on psionic abilities?”

Chen Lin responded with a casual “Mm” and nodded. “I believe if I go myself, I can uncover more useful information. Besides, everyone up there is already dead, so there may not even be any danger.”

The moment he said that, he saw Fu Xuan glaring at him again. He quickly added, “This is the confidence my psionically enhanced sixth sense gives me!”

“Pfft—” Fu Xuan almost choked on his words.

“Alright.”

Jing Yuan, who had been deep in thought, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Perhaps this is a risk worth taking.”

Fu Xuan glared at him. “Jing Yuan, you—”

Before she could finish, she was interrupted. Jing Yuan turned to her with a smile and asked, “Ah, but alas, as your elder brother, I must remain stationed at the Divination Commission. Diviner Fu, would you be willing to accompany our virtuous brother? That way, you can watch each other’s backs. Besides… I am also concerned that a lack of intelligence might lead to disaster. Understanding one’s enemy is of utmost importance in warfare.”

Fu Xuan fell silent for a moment. In her mind, she envisioned the nano nebula sweeping across the universe, unstoppable and devastating. She snorted softly and lowered her head.

“This seat believes that would be for the best.”

“Excellent. Perhaps Diviner Fu could even perform a divination before departure. Whether fortune or misfortune, we would at least have some foresight, wouldn’t we?”

Jing Yuan’s expression grew serious as he asked, “When do you plan to depart, virtuous brother? Do you require support from the Luofu?”

“The sooner, the better.” After a brief pause, Chen Lin continued, “As for support… just get me to the destination.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“That works.”

Afterward, Chen Lin went through all the intelligence the Divination Commission had on the nano nebula, committing it to memory.

Originally, he had planned to return to Qlipoth Fort to rest, but Jing Yuan persuaded him to stay with a simple argument: Since you’re already here, why not stay?

Left with no choice, he sent a message to Pela, instructing her to clear his schedule for the next two days, as he wouldn’t be returning. He also asked Clara to oversee the final stages of the L-gate’s activation.

The plan remained unchanged.

As the group stood up, Chen Lin assumed he would be staying in the same secluded courtyard within the Divination Commission. But to his surprise, Jing Yuan suddenly said, “Virtuous brother, there have been renovations within the Divination Commission, and all the vacant rooms are currently under construction. Why don’t we have Diviner Fu arrange accommodations for you tonight?”

Fu Xuan: “Ah?”

“What’s wrong?” Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow and recalled, “I don’t recall approving any construction funds for the Ministry of Divination. Don’t tell me, Diviner Fu, that you’ve been using your own money to renovate guest rooms? Or perhaps the Ministry has a guest of its own?”

“Ahem! No such thing… This seat will make the arrangements myself. General, you need not worry. Farewell!”

After a brief moment of surprise, Fu Xuan threw down those words, grabbed Chen Lin, and hurriedly left the Divination Commission, leaving Jing Yuan sitting in place, nodding to himself in amusement.

As Yanqing tidied up the teacups and candied fruits on the table, he finally had the chance to voice his confusion.

“General, since when did the Divination Commission start renovations? And why did you push the arrangements onto the Master Diviner? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to handle it?”

“…”

Jing Yuan shook his head, contemplating for a long while before he finally muttered a few words.

“Night duty stipend.”

“Huh?”

“Go rest. Tomorrow, continue your sword training. You’ll understand these things when you grow up.”

Yanqing pouted in dissatisfaction and muttered under his breath, “Dodging the question again… Does the General think I’m as easy to fool as the Master Diviner?”

Unbeknownst to him, as Jing Yuan left, he glanced back at the young swordsman who was deftly tidying the table—his expression carrying a deeper meaning.

He had heard everything loud and clear.

Someone was going to suffer tomorrow.

---

At the entrance of an alley in Changlétian, a young man leaned against the wall, listening quietly to the calls of vendors as the night breeze brushed against his face. His strikingly handsome features, usually serene, were now tinged with weariness due to the dilemmas on his mind.

A set of small, hurried footsteps approached. A delicate hand held two sticks of candied hawthorn, and one was promptly offered to the absentminded youth.

Seeing no reaction from him, Fu Xuan furrowed her brows. Her naturally cold and aloof expression turned even frostier.

“Eat.”

“Oh…”

Chen Lin took the candied hawthorn, casting a puzzled glance at Fu Xuan. Wasn’t she more of a milk tea person? He had assumed she left him waiting here to buy tea.

After all, there was a shop selling Immortal Tea not far away.

Biting into a hawthorn, Fu Xuan’s icy demeanor seemed to thaw slightly. It was clear she had a fondness for sweet things—whenever she ate them, she would reveal a rare smile that was almost impossible to see at other times.

As they walked toward the Ministry of Divination, Fu Xuan’s formation spell ensured that those around them simply overlooked their presence. Unlike when Chen Lin first arrived, the passersby did not gossip or even acknowledge them.

After a short distance, Fu Xuan suddenly stopped. Chen Lin nearly bumped into her.

“Virtuous brother, there is something I wish to ask you.”

She turned to face him, her gaze steady.

“When we were in Jarilo-VI, I noticed that the planet’s food supply was vastly exceeding its strategic reserve standards. Is there a plan behind this?”

Chen Lin paused for a moment, then chuckled.

“There’s no grand plan… I just don’t want to see a world where famine runs rampant again. This was simply my own willful decision."

After all, Belobog… once lost many lives to starvation.”

---

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!