Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [367]

While the situation on the front lines seemed dire and the environment one of the most dangerous since the L-Gate expedition began, in truth, it didn’t pose much of a real threat to the Belobog government.

The star chart Chen Lin carried didn’t just offer real-time surveillance of all detectable movements within range—it could also, the moment an organized enemy fleet appeared, roughly extrapolate its combat strength.

The newly detected fleet in the battlefield was evaluated at 5.1M combat power on the star chart—about 1M less than the combined strength of all three friendly fleets. Theoretically speaking, even if the two sides were locked in fierce battle, the power gap wasn’t all that significant.

If the opposing fleet happened to possess some bizarre ship traits, or weapons and defenses that directly countered theirs, the actual result might—

Might what? Lose? Not a chance.

Chen Lin had quite a few heavy-hitting weapons at his disposal. The only one that had been publicly revealed so far was Seele’s phase-space manipulation—an ability to avoid damage and deliver sneak attacks virtually free of cost. Now, you could add Phantylia—whose power ranked somewhere in the upper-middle range of these weapons.

If it really came to a fight, winning the frontline was only a matter of time.

The three fleets, with a combined rating of around 6M, could exert far more combat power than the numbers alone suggested.

So all Chen Lin needed to do was relay the intel to those who needed it, issue a simple order to keep engaging—and that was that. No further intervention required.

Jarilo followed a doctrine of minimizing civilian impact during wartime. After all, the course of a stellar war wasn’t something civilians could steer just by shouting a few words of encouragement. But considering that some hotheaded folks might still fall prey to conspiracy theories and start doing things that left the psionic police scratching their heads, the results of such wars were usually only disclosed after everything was over.

The official line from the Qlipoth Fort was: The Fort must ensure the security and authenticity of information, so as to protect the legal rights of imperial citizens and uphold the right of informed consent for foreign stellar civilizations regarding major military operations.

Once the red tape was out of the way, Chen Lin leaned forward over his desk, thoroughly enjoying the combat footage on the star chart—which was now glowing brighter than ever with visual noise. Much of it looked very familiar; some of the techniques clearly originated from Phantylia’s older moves, though they seemed to have been modified and massively enhanced in power.

[Starshatter, Moonfall]—when Phantylia had first wielded the authority of Destruction, she created illusory mirages that were indistinguishable from reality and severed all sensory perception within. Only once the victim succumbed to fear, lost all grasp of the objective world, and mentally collapsed would the illusions become real, delivering actual damage.

But now, somehow, Phantylia had removed the trigger condition for those attacks. She was manufacturing the actual collision of two celestial bodies within objective reality—no illusions involved.

Even if those phenomena only existed for a fraction of a second, the sheer impact and psychological pressure they carried were enough to obliterate most enemies outright.

If Phantylia were still working under Nanook’s command, the Corporation would likely elevate her threat level by several more tiers.

Thank the stars she’s my maid now.

On Chen Lin’s end, the Governor was watching with unconcealed delight. Sitting across from him, Fu Xuan continued parsing a flood of hexagram readings and fate trends, occasionally glancing at her younger brother—seemingly waiting for a particular moment.

When she saw that the teacup in front of Chen Lin had been emptied, Fu Xuan’s eyes lit up. She swiftly picked up the teapot, drew back her sleeve, and poured him a fresh cup.

“What’s got dear little brother so absorbed?”

From the moment she arrived, Fu Xuan had noticed that Chen Lin’s attention was constantly focused on empty air or the surface of the desk. At first, she assumed he was deep in thought and didn’t disturb him—but the longer she watched, the more off it seemed.

If he were just spacing out, why did he keep chuckling to himself?

He couldn’t have gone daft… right?

Finally spotting a chance, she asked with deliberate gentleness.

“Uh, oh.”

Very few within Qlipoth Fort knew that Chen Lin had the ability to monitor the star chart in real time. Loufu was still completely unaware.

After a moment’s thought, Chen Lin decided it wouldn’t hurt to let Loufu get a small glimpse into the truth. With a casual smile, he explained, “Just watching a rather large-scale encounter at the front lines—and giving some support orders to the reserve fleet while I’m at it.”

“Huh…?”

“Take a look for yourself, Sister Fu.”

With a wave of his hand, even though he hadn’t brought any equipment, it took only a bit of psionic energy to reconstruct a delayed playback of the star chart. No effort at all.

The Xianzhou had similar tech, of course, but nothing close to Chen Lin’s ability to observe every movement of his forces across starspace—virtually without restriction or delay.

And it wasn’t just the Xianzhou—no current tech, not even that of the Interstellar Peace Corporation, could match it. After all, signal detection always required time for transmission and return, and even rendering a scene based on that data took time.

As it stood, the greatest limitation to real-time monitoring of one's own units was distance.

And the front line was ridiculously far from the Xianzhou—nearly thirty stellar systems away. Yet Chen Lin could still instantly monitor and even remotely command his forces.

This kind of tech was nothing short of explosive.

In every era, warfare wasn’t only about military might—it was also a contest of how fast and accurately one could gather and process information. Accurate, timely intel allowed military and government leaders to make the right calls at the right moment, greatly increasing the chance of seizing victory.

If someone could unilaterally control the when, where, and how of a conflict, the strategic advantage was beyond immense.

It was like playing cards with your opponent’s hand wide open. If the skill levels were even, or the one with the open hand was just slightly better, then unless the other player got absurdly lucky… there was no winning.

Fu Xuan stared dumbfounded at the star chart, which was practically a perfect miniature recreation of the actual battlefield. She pointed at the center of a pink-and-blue mist, where a bright green skull icon stood out.

The figure there struck the nearby L-Drakes a dozen times in rapid succession—each time prompting a dragon’s agonized roar before it burst into flames and disintegrated into ash.

“What is that? The technique is so overwhelming—charging alone into the fray, and she’s not even at a disadvantage…”

“That’s my Chief Guard.”

At those words, Fu Xuan’s mind immediately conjured up that image. Her body tensed, a chill of Lord Ravager PTSD creeping up her spine.

Even though all she’d sensed from the woman was overwhelming psionic power, and no other force… the Stellaron Crisis had left a deep impression. The only reason she didn’t have recurring nightmares was her own mental fortitude.

“She’s a powerful psionic user. The mist you see around her is the psionic energy she gives off. The Empire typically calls it a ‘psionic entity.’”

“Psionic entity?”

“Mm. When the Empire first explored the Aetherium, they discovered countless entities and lifeforms that mirrored those of the real universe. Psionic entities are one such class—but unlike others, these entities can establish strong ties with reality and be brought into the material world by specific means.”

“Then doesn’t that mean your Chief Guard is…”

“No. Later, the Empire realized that individuals could also achieve a similar effect by attaining certain psionic revelations or receiving blessings from higher-dimensional beings—temporarily linking with the Aetherium. Their own bodies then become psionic avatars, allowing them to traverse and fight across the stars. Their combat power generally scales with their personal psionic strength…”

Chen Lin’s explanation went on for several hours.

Outside, the soft patter of rain gradually faded. Sunlight peeked through, slowly drifting across the sky.

Time slipped by unnoticed as the siblings continued their exchange—Fu Xuan’s thirst for knowledge overpowering any trace of fatigue. Other than sipping water or nodding thoughtfully from time to time, she didn’t pause for even a second.

Before they knew it, evening had arrived.

Chen Lin glanced at the sky outside, then at his frowning sister deep in thought, and spoke up. “Sister Fu, it’s getting late. The Empire still hasn’t fully deciphered the mysteries of the Aetherium—I understand maybe one ten-thousandth of it. Going any deeper right now wouldn’t be helpful. How about we leave it here for today?”

These weren’t baseless ramblings—everything he’d said so far stemmed from theories Jarilo had developed after opening access to the Aetherium.

“Psionic entities” were even mentioned in Theories of Psionics.

To the Zroni civilization, which had taken psionics to its furthest limits, psionic entities were nothing new.

Judging by their writings, it seemed like anyone among the Zroni could transform their body or consciousness into a psionic entity for combat. So they never really bothered studying the concept in depth—treating it as a basic, innate skill of any psionic civilization.

After all, a newborn Zroni’s psionic potential already rivaled that of a trained Psion. With a bit of development and training, everyone became a world-shattering force of nature…

He still remembered the final chapter of Theories of Psionics, which compiled the testimonies of Zroni who had “failed” in their training. After reading them, Chen Lin had been so furious his teeth ached. In the end, he deleted the entire chapter from the public edition of the textbook.

“To train in psionics, one must maintain a calm heart. Mental inclinations affect the awakening process. Back then, I was simply too kind—so I awakened a series of utterly useless abilities. While my classmates created central black-hole systems from stardust, I could only snuff out a few stars across a handful of systems. I became a complete failure in our clan. Let my example be a warning to future generations.”
— Letheris

“Free your mind. Pale imagination brings no progress in psionics. On the contrary, it impedes development. Like a beautiful poem—if you obsess over rhyme, the chain will bind you. Unless you’re from a future age, don’t become someone like me, someone who can only manipulate eight dual-helix nebulas at once.”
— Heo Perperina

If that’s what a failure looks like… I wouldn’t mind failing a little myself.

After reading those “failure case studies,” Chen Lin had been so irritated he deleted them all. No need to shake his people’s confidence—he could always publish them later.

That was just how this ridiculous, Versailles-tier ancient civilization of the Zroni worked.

Fu Xuan’s gaze lingered on her younger brother for a moment. Then she simply nodded.

“In that case, allow me to brief you on the divinations. This batch of readings was especially complex, involving too many factions.”

“Too many” was putting it lightly. Practically every major power that could act had already made a move.

The Interastral Peace Corporation, with Topaz at the forefront, appeared to be neutrally reporting the war. But the moment the Empire showed even a hint of weakness, they wouldn’t hesitate to open the vault. These merchants had already tried to offer Chen Lin “assistance” several times, only to be tactfully declined by the Qlipoth Fort.

Then there was Sparkle’s Tavern-backed faction, which had arrived on Jarilo. Their intentions remained unclear, and their allegiance was fickle—for now, not an enemy.

The Luofu Xianzhou, represented by Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan, had been refreshingly decisive—placing all their fleets under the Empire’s command. It was a clear sign they were going all in on the Empire’s victory.

And of course, the Empire itself, represented by Chen Lin—as the civilization that had directly activated the L-Gate, they had no choice but to take the lead in this war. That much was unquestionable.

Within the L-Gate, a possible remnant of the Nano Empire had emerged—alongside their apparent enemies, the L-Drake swarms.

Now, the Annihilation Gang, walking the Path of Destruction, had also taken an interest in the war-bound Empire. They could send troops at any moment.

And beyond these? There might be hidden forces Chen Lin hadn’t even noticed yet.

If this wasn’t complicated, what was?

The sky turned red with the colors of sunset.

Sunlight streamed through the window lattices, falling across the soft rug. A breeze slipped past the sill, carrying with it the hurried footsteps of the Master Diviner's staff.

Fu Xuan walked to the window, gazing out for a moment before turning back and raising her hand. One by one, sigils of divination appeared in midair. She began with the first.

“Wind and thunder sweep clean; the cosmos renews itself. Standing on the right path is hard—but with purpose comes benefit. Don’t worry about short-term gains or losses. Stay firm, steady, resolute, and the tide will turn. Though the signs are clouded and the causes complex, I can divine no further.”

“Discern carefully where you stand—don’t act rashly. Wait for the right moment. Grow from small to great. No rushing. Judging from the readings, you’ve done well so far—favorable fortune, earned by effort. When the upper and lower realms are in harmony, there is nothing you can’t achieve.”

“Fortune and misfortune cycle without rest. This is Dui above Qian—marsh over heaven—leading to sudden storms. Danger brews within and without, but you’ve long been alert, avoiding arrogance and impulse. Thoughtful, deliberate, you’ve made your choices with care. Fortune lies in moving forward with purpose. Though mired in a swamp of uncertainty, this line intersects with others—change is hidden within. Hold fast to your convictions, persevere without faltering, and you may turn the storm into nourishing thunderclouds, bringing life to all things.”

“……”

Snow King, you… .jpg

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T/N: you got 2 chapters today because SkyRex on discord chose 2 chapters instead of 5 :D

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!