Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [274]

Seated at the banquet table, Topaz idly ran her fingers along the rim of her wine glass, replaying the conversation between Chen Lin and the Xianzhou envoys in her mind.

It was clear that the Arbiter General had reached some kind of undisclosed agreement with the Imperial Governor—one they had no intention of making public. In fact, they were actively throwing out smoke screens to mislead outside observers.

Hearing the name whispered beside her, Topaz instinctively prepared to respond, but then—

A sharp, involuntary tremor coursed through her forehead.

No…

She abruptly rose from her seat, eyes wide as she turned to face the man beside her.

For the Imperial Governor to utter that name so casually…

It meant the Empire had already seen through every layer of the IPC’s secrecy and deception. It meant that her real name—long since buried beneath a corporate alias—had already been unearthed by Imperial intelligence.

After all, once IPC employees reached a certain rank, their names were replaced with codenames. Their personal histories, credentials, and identifying information were all sealed under the highest levels of corporate security.

To prevent retaliation from outsiders.
To prevent them from ever slipping beyond the company’s grasp.

And yet… what else had the Empire uncovered?

There had been no security breaches, no signs of unauthorized access to company databases. Their headquarters hadn’t been infiltrated. So how did they get this information?

The deeper she thought, the more a creeping sense of unease took hold.

“Sit. No need to be so formal.”

Chen Lin tapped his fingers against the chair, motioning for her to sit back down. He smiled.

“The partnership between the Empire and Luofu was set in stone long ago. Tonight is just a formality… What I really wanted was a proper conversation with you, Director Jelena.”

His voice was calm, yet firm.

“You and your people have been here for quite some time now. You’ve seen and learned a lot. I hope you understand—I am a reasonable man. I prefer peaceful resolutions.”

“When it comes to business, the most important thing is mutual understanding. Only then can we both make the best decisions at the right time."

"Walking into negotiations blind? That never ends well. So instead of playing games, why don’t we just be upfront with each other?”

“…You certainly think things through, don’t you?”

Topaz exhaled softly.

She glanced at Chen Lin, braced herself, and pulled out her chair. Sitting back down, she steadied her nerves.

She knew full well that his words carried an implicit jab at the IPC’s methods.

As someone who had climbed the corporate ladder to the rank of director, she was intimately familiar with the company’s unspoken rules and strategies.

And the truth was, if she tried to deny it—if she attempted to lie in rebuttal—it would only make her, and the company she represented, look like fools.

So she didn’t bother.

Instead, she asked directly, “Then tell me—what is it that you do understand?”

Chen Lin smiled faintly. “More than I should.”

He leaned back in his chair, voice as unhurried as ever.

“The Canapei Concordance. The Quivalian Joint Accord. Sobek, Bindar… Civilizations that have all perished since the last Amber Age."

"One by one, they fell to catastrophic ruin."

"And then, in their darkest hour, your company arrived—like a benevolent savior."

"You extended your so-called generosity, welcoming their ‘healthy’ survivors into your ranks as full-time employees."

"Yet, strangely, these recruits seem completely unaware that it was the IPC’s own terraforming initiatives that pushed their civilizations to the brink in the first place.”

The banquet hall below was bustling with activity. Even Bronya had left the table, moving through the crowd with Qingque’s help. Together, they introduced themselves to various delegation members, piecing together an understanding of their roles—laying the groundwork for future collaboration.

Qingque, of course, preferred to get everything done in one go. That way, she’d have more free time to slack off later.

Amidst the lively chatter below, the stillness of the upper banquet stage felt almost unnatural.

Topaz had expected the Empire to know something about the IPC.

She had not expected them to unearth classified records sealed away for ages.

And among them…

Her own homeworld.

Chen Lin waited a few moments. When Topaz remained silent, he continued:

“Of course, none of that really matters.”

His tone remained light, almost indifferent.

“It won’t affect our negotiations.”

“I simply wanted the IPC to understand something:"

"The fact that I’ve allowed you to remain here?"

"That alone is the greatest courtesy I can offer.”

His smile did not waver.

“Because tell me—who in their right mind would willingly tolerate an invasive, opportunistic foreign power prancing around their territory?”

Topaz met his gaze, measuring his words carefully.

She could tell—this wasn’t about pressuring her.

This was him demonstrating his own sincerity.

After months of observation, one thing was abundantly clear:

The Empire didn’t need to join any IPC-led trade networks.

They were already thriving on their own.

Joining a commercial bloc—one that relied on mutual support and dependency—would only slow them down.

The Empire wasn’t just self-sufficient. They were a technological juggernaut.

So then…

Why was Xianzhou Luofu here?

Topaz’s gaze flickered downward, settling on the Xianzhou envoy below.

Qingque was laughing, casually clinging to Bronya’s arm like a longtime confidant.

Had she not been wearing an official Xianzhou uniform, anyone watching might have assumed she was a high-ranking Imperial official—someone who belonged in the Empire’s inner circle.

Yet, from what Topaz knew, both the Supreme Guardian and the Marshal of the Imperial Fleet technically held no personal authority.

All power in this domain belonged to one man.

The man sitting beside her.

A man who controlled an entire star sector.
A man who commanded countless military divisions.
A man whose very existence was still hidden from the IPC’s intelligence networks.

If a crisis ever arose—one beyond the Empire’s control—Topaz couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of ancient monsters would crawl out of the shadows.

Even now, one single piece of their technology—instantaneous interstellar communication, seamlessly compatible with every form of transmission, old or new—was enough to make the IPC salivate.

Time is information. Information is money. Money is power.

The IPC knew this better than anyone. After all, that’s how they built their empire in the first place.

Topaz smiled slightly, her tone even.

“Governor Chen, I won’t deny any of this. The IPC sent us here only to seek opportunities for cooperation.”

“You understand, don’t you?

Opportunities… can’t be forced.

Regardless of the outcome, the company will always respect the Empire’s rise, development, and prosperity.”

Chen Lin scoffed.

“Come on now. If this place hadn’t been absorbed into the Empire, would you still be taking this stance?”

Chen Lin leaned back, unimpressed. “Miss Jelena, let’s be honest with each other. What does the IPC really want from this deal?”

He had no patience for hollow diplomatic pleasantries. Moral grandstanding meant nothing to him.

As long as I have no morals, no one can use morality against me!

If he truly cared about playing fair, he wouldn’t have cracked open Topaz’s metaphorical ‘box’ with an ability that even Silver Wolf feared.

“No, that’s not it.”

Topaz shook her head firmly. “The IPC is simply trying to save dying planets in its own way. Even if the Empire had never emerged… I would still respect Belobog’s autonomy. I wouldn’t force anything.”

Words alone wouldn’t convince anyone.

Chen Lin waved a hand dismissively. “I probably understand the IPC’s real constraints better than you do, Director. So let’s cut to the chase."

"If we’re going to do business, the only acceptable currency is energy."

"Everything must be based on that. Otherwise, there’s no deal.”

Of course, the only reason Chen Lin was suddenly willing to entertain the idea of negotiations…

Was because, during his little peek into Topaz’s ‘box,’ he had stumbled upon something else—

The truth about the IPC.

All facade, no foundation.

Initially, he had assumed the IPC operated like a traditional interstellar corporate empire—structured like a sovereign state, with board members from powerful families controlling every major division, ensuring absolute dominance through generational oversight.

But reality was far messier.

The IPC’s hierarchy only appeared rigid. In truth, its upper echelons were openly competitive—designed to let fresh talent rise. This system prevented bureaucratic stagnation, ensuring the company didn’t fall into the hands of incompetent leadership.

However, this structure also led to excessive decentralization.

Some executives were obsessed with profit.
Some were hellbent on expanding the company’s influence.
Some fanatically followed the ideals of the company’s founder, Louis Fleming—hoarding ‘materials’ in an attempt to build walls for the Preservation Aeon.

Even though the Preservation Aeon couldn’t care less about their efforts.

And this internal division was the IPC’s greatest weakness.

The company still maintained its prosperity—coasting on the vast wealth accumulated by its predecessors.

Its primary business model?

The exploitation of developing civilizations.

By endlessly printing credits, the IPC entrenched itself in the economies of young or underdeveloped planets. These worlds became dependent on IPC-controlled trade, allowing the company to siphon their wealth indefinitely.

The official explanation?

That all participating civilizations were working together to “stabilize exchange rates” and “reduce trade imbalances”.

On paper, it sounded mutually beneficial.

But in reality?

Once a civilization fully integrated into the credit-based economy and entered its golden age of prosperity—

It was already too late.

Their economy had become irrevocably tied to the IPC. They couldn’t function without it.

And if the day ever came when these civilizations collapsed under the weight of hyperinflation—when their credit-driven economies crumbled—

The IPC would graciously step in.

But not to help.

To buy them out—at the lowest possible price.

From that moment on, that civilization and its entire population would be bound in eternal servitude, forever repaying a debt they never truly owed.

Even more powerful civilizations, like Xianzhou, understood this.

That’s why they never fully embraced the IPC’s economic system.

They allowed the company to do business in their territories, permitted some circulation of credits…

But all final transactions had to be settled in Xianzhou’s own currency.

This safeguard should have been enough.

But during the last Abundance War… everything changed.

Chen Lin had heard the story directly from Jing Yuan.

At the height of the war against the Abundance faction, Xianzhou went all in. The Alliance fully mobilized, funneling vast resources into the conflict.

The cost was astronomical.

When the war finally ended, Fanghu had been devastated. Yuque lay in ruins.

Sensing an opportunity, the IPC immediately extended an ‘aid package’ to Xianzhou—offering an enormous influx of credits.

Of course, it wasn’t free.

Xianzhou had to spend the credits exactly as dictated—purchasing specific goods from specific IPC-affiliated civilizations.

And when the time came to settle accounts—

Xianzhou was forced to abandon its own currency.

From then on, all future transactions with the IPC had to be conducted in credits.

With this single move, the IPC successfully flooded the Xianzhou market. Credits became the standard for everyday purchases.

Jing Yuan himself had lamented the consequences:

"If not for the Empire’s intervention… I shudder to think what price the IPC would have demanded in return."

"When you take their money, you owe them a favor. And when you owe them a favor… they will come to collect."

"Had we not found an alternative, they would have claimed even more Xianzhou land—built countless factories and corporate facilities, flooding our economy with their goods until we could no longer sustain ourselves without them.""

These words had been spoken just days before Chen Lin’s departure from Luofu—over a cup of tea in the Mansion.

A moment of honesty from a man who, despite his rank, was powerless to change the past.

Jing Yuan had seen the writing on the wall.

He knew that if Xianzhou continued down this path, it would eventually become another of the IPC’s client civilizations—forever shackled to their trade network, unable to reclaim economic independence.

That was why he had been desperate to find another way forward.

And so—

Behind closed doors, he and Chen Lin had drafted an agreement.

An agreement so significant that the very next day—

It was approved by the Xianzhou Marshal herself.

And Jing Yuan was granted full authority to oversee its implementation.

Which meant that, to this day, the only people aware of this agreement were Chen Lin, Jing Yuan, and the Xianzhou Marshal he had yet to meet.

And because of this agreement—whether or not the IPC had sent Topaz to probe for information—Chen Lin had already planned to reach out to the company through Asta.

To most civilizations, the IPC was wealthy, technologically advanced, a conglomerate of the best minds in the cosmos, a symbol of progress and prosperity.

But to Chen Lin—especially after accidentally catching a glimpse of the company’s actual military strength—the IPC was something entirely different.

It was like a fragile noblewoman, born into immense wealth but utterly defenseless.

Parents gone. Bodyguards fled.

Yet, in her hands, she clutched endless riches, vast resource channels—things that, if Chen Lin so much as tapped into, could drastically accelerate his own development.

With those resources, he could vastly improve his chances of handling the crisis Sech had warned him about.

The temptation was obvious.

If it weren’t for two factors—his friendship with Asta, and the looming danger of the L-Gate reopening—Chen Lin might have already gathered his top military officials upon returning to Belobog… and planned something big.

But for now, the L-Gate took priority.

And besides—the IPC seemed rather cooperative.

So, if they wanted to play nice, he didn’t mind playing the role of the old IPC for once—letting them pump a bit of lifeblood into his resource-rich, yet energy-starved, economy.

Topaz’s voice brought him back to the moment.

“This condition—I can accept on behalf of the company.”

She activated her terminal, pulling up a densely packed spreadsheet. With a small flick of her fingers, the data floated toward Chen Lin.

“This is a comprehensive list of the IPC’s energy industries and their total output—already adjusted to exclude maintenance costs and operational consumption.”

She met his gaze.

“Governor, before I ask about your definition of ‘energy,’ I’d like to first outline our conditions."

"Would that be acceptable?”

Chen Lin gestured casually. “Go ahead. Let’s talk with real sincerity.”

Topaz took a deep breath, straightening her posture.

Her mind raced through the extensive list of negotiable deals that the board had authorized her to propose.

After careful consideration, she decided to throw out the most difficult demand first.

“We need Imperial technology."

"All of it.”

---

T/N: wow IPC is feeling a like a big man huh>

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!