Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [183]

“This… doesn’t make sense…”

“Something’s definitely not right…”

Phantylia flew back and forth inside the Stellaron assimilated by psionic energy, searching in vain for Chen Lin’s core consciousness. Normally, such a presence would act as a beacon—a blazing lighthouse in the night for someone like her, a being of pure energy. It should have been glaringly obvious.

But despite combing through every corner of the space, she found nothing.
Could there be a deeper layer she hadn’t discovered yet? Perhaps the core consciousness was hidden there…

Or was there some unseen master of this space?

Refusing to admit defeat, Phantylia scoured the Stellaron yet again, only to remain empty-handed. At this point, she realized she had already spent far too long here. If Chen Lin had alerted Jing Yuan or Fu Xuan to the situation, delaying any further might cost her dearly when reinforcements arrived. Even retreating could come at a steep price.

Phantylia was thoroughly frustrated. What kind of bizarre mindscape was this benefactor hiding?

“To think such pure energy could originate from the so-called mind… ha! If those ancient scholars knew about this, they’d treat it like a treasure.”

Phantylia knelt, scooping up the psionic energy pooled so densely that it was nearly liquid. She swirled it in her palm, a mocking smile curling on her fabricated face. Then, with a decisive motion, she plunged her hand into the ground.

“Let’s see where you’re hiding this so-called core consciousness!”

Unbeknownst to her, the formless Chen Lin watched the entire spectacle unfold. As Phantylia furiously clawed at his mindscape, trying to excavate the Stellaron itself, he couldn’t help but marvel at her antics.

If this were a comic, a comically large bead of sweat would have formed on Chen Lin’s shadowy figure.

She’s so determined to find a core consciousness? Fine, I’ll just make one for her!

In his consciousness space, conjuring something from nothing was child’s play. He could fabricate something so convincing that it would be indistinguishable from the real thing.

The only question was: what should a core consciousness look like?

Chen Lin’s mind raced, drawing on his vast repository of knowledge from his past life filled with wuxia novels, cultivation dramas, and science fiction. Core consciousnesses—if such things existed—had to look impressive.

Rule #1: It must emit a radiant glow to exude grandeur.
The core consciousness was central to the mindscape. Unlike the Stellaron, it couldn’t be overly physical. It had to be a pure representation, something ethereal.

Rule #2: It must look like a spiritual entity, the more mystical, the better.
To underscore its uniqueness, the object should be adorned with fantastical effects. This would make it clear to anyone that it wasn’t ordinary.

Rule #3: Its appearance should be over-the-top and dramatic.
Since it hadn’t appeared until now, Phantylia would naturally assume he had hidden it well. To sell the idea, it needed an elaborate reveal, perhaps with a dramatic medium.

Rule #4: Its emergence should come with ambiguous signs.
If she realized she couldn’t move the Stellaron, she might begin to suspect. Giving her just a sliver of hope would keep her intrigued.

Rule #5: Let her taste a bit of triumph before her defeat.

In less than a second, Chen Lin finalized the design of his faux core consciousness. Quietly, he began gathering psionic energy from the surrounding area, kneading it into the desired shape.

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Phantylia remained oblivious to Chen Lin’s schemes. Frustration gnawed at her as she struggled to comprehend why, despite her status as a Herald of Destruction and the possessor of Nanook’s gifts, she couldn’t move this Stellaron one inch.

I should’ve brought my true form instead of this fabricated fox body, she lamented, realizing she was unable to unleash her full power.

Just as she was on the verge of giving up, she felt a change beneath her hand. A small, exquisitely crafted crystal shard emerged from the rigid Stellaron.

After a brief hesitation, Phantylia clenched her teeth and crushed it.

The effect was immediate. The entire mindscape trembled as if struck by a cataclysm. Violent psionic waves surged through the space, the ground quaking and distorting like an earthquake.

Hovering in midair, Phantylia narrowed her eyes and scanned her surroundings with growing unease.

This consciousness was bizarre beyond reason. Its vastness, the endless reserves of pure energy—it was already unnatural. The absence of a core consciousness was strange, but within her tolerance. But now the space itself was reacting violently.

What’s next? Self-destruction?

If she couldn’t find what she was looking for soon, she resolved to withdraw immediately. Though this was only half of her heliobus avatar, its destruction would still take time to recover from. A drawn-out engagement could jeopardize all her carefully laid plans.

Losing both this opportunity and the chance to control Chen Lin’s immense psionic reserves would be catastrophic. Without these resources, her dream of crafting an immortal body from the Ambrosial Arbor would slip further out of reach.

Phantylia tightened her resolve. She prepared an escape route, rehearsing contingencies in case she faced Jing Yuan or Fu Xuan upon exiting.

But just as she was about to act, the tremors abruptly ceased. The psionic energy within the mindscape visibly thinned, its production dropping several magnitudes as though the space had been drained of its vitality.

Phantylia froze.

“…What?”

Just as Phantylia thought she had the situation under control, the psionic energy within the Stellaron space began erupting like countless tiny bombs. She darted around to avoid the chaotic blasts, though some managed to graze her, leaving superficial injuries.

The swirling energy dissipated entirely, leaving her momentarily stunned. Then, a dazzling light emerged from the center of the Stellaron, grabbing her full attention.

There, in the Stellaron’s nucleus, an iridescent blaze of flame—so vibrant it bordered on visual overload—roared to life. Amidst the shimmering glow, a sphere the size of a human head slowly materialized. Beneath it, an arm with glowing orange cracks stretched out, holding the sphere aloft in its palm.

The previously blank Stellaron interior seemed to shift into a surreal vision. With the psionic energy depleted, the consciousness space’s illusory nature broke down.

Glowing pathways connected to form a ceiling. Massive columns materialized around her.

Stairs. Carpets. Rooftops. A throne. Pillars.

The once-empty space had transformed into an ornate, resplendent palace.

“This is… flashier than the neon lights outside corporate headquarters,” Phantylia muttered to herself, squinting at the overwhelming display.

She began to suspect the crystal she had shattered earlier was a mechanism Chen Lin had used to conceal his core consciousness—a lucky find she had stumbled upon and cracked open.

Her luck was impeccable.

As the chaotic energy subsided, Phantylia relaxed. The once-threatening atmosphere dissipated, leaving behind only eerie calm. She cautiously descended to the glowing red carpet leading toward the Stellaron.

Her eyes narrowed as she examined the distorted arm holding the glowing sphere, its vibrant effects swirling like an overproduced visual from an animated show. Her expression mirrored an elder’s bemusement at a baffling video on their phone.

“So… this is his core consciousness?” Phantylia reached out to touch it. “Truly a sight to behold.”

Warmth radiated from the sphere as her fingers grazed its surface. A flood of emotions—anger, joy, sorrow, hope—poured into her mind, confirming this bizarre construct was indeed Chen Lin’s core consciousness.

Phantylia grinned at the thought of her plans coming to fruition. Soon, Chen Lin’s thoughts and emotions would be hers to manipulate, his once-private inner world now an open book she could rewrite at will.

With this, my dream of an eternal body draws closer.

Combining the Ambrosial Arbor’s regenerative powers with the Stellaron’s pure, infinitely adaptable energy would create the perfect vessel. No longer would she fear the self-destructive end inherent to her heliobus existence. She would stand tall, unstoppable, her immortality secured. Even the mightiest of the Destruction Lords would tread carefully around her.

The decades of fear that had haunted her—fear of obliteration, of being reduced to nothing—would finally dissipate.

“Oh, my dear benefactor, I must apologize,” she purred, mock sincerity dripping from her voice. “But I’ll have to borrow your core consciousness to aid me in this endeavor.”

With a sly smile, she began injecting Destruction’s energy into the sphere, carefully weaving in the control mechanisms she’d designed. The process was seamless, her power infiltrating the construct she believed to be Chen Lin’s core.

Her voice carried through the consciousness space. To Phantylia, it was a simple courtesy. After all, any words spoken to the core would echo directly into Chen Lin’s mind. Her goal wasn’t just control; it was domination of spirit and mind alike.

Break a man’s spirit, and his body will follow.

She pictured Chen Lin’s reaction—shocked, terrified, perhaps even awe-struck by her overwhelming power.

Chen Lin, who had been quietly observing the entire time, was flabbergasted.

Benefactor?

The voice was unmistakably teasing, its saccharine tone reminding him of a certain grinning little fox he knew all too well.

Wait a second… Stop right there! Is this… Tingyun?!

Panic set in. Damn it, Xianzhou, what’s going on with your internal security? How do you have so many infiltrators?!

Within seconds, Phantylia had locked in her control. She placed invisible chains upon the core, binding Chen Lin’s speech and actions. From this moment forward, he wouldn’t be able to disclose her presence or plans, no matter what. Even if he somehow became aware of her control, he would remain powerless to reveal it.

He was now her puppet. With a mere thought, she could compel him to obey. If anyone dared to tamper with the chains, the Destruction energy infused within them would activate, turning Chen Lin into a mindless husk of the antimatter army. Only a Destruction Lord could break such a curse.

Phantylia regarded the glowing sphere with a mix of pity and amusement. She couldn’t help but think Chen Lin would’ve made an excellent addition to the Legion. Aside from his personal combat skills, which were admittedly lacking, his intelligence and charisma were irresistible assets.

Perhaps with the right training, he could even become her vanguard—a tantalizing lure for high-ranking female commanders among her enemies. She excelled at fracturing alliances from within, and Chen Lin was a perfect chess piece for such schemes.

But first, she needed to cement her control.

A panicked voice rang out from within the sphere: “Who are you?!”

The tone was filled with fear and desperation, trembling as though the soul behind it was on the verge of breaking.

Phantylia paused, intrigued that Chen Lin could still communicate despite her suppression. Then again, nothing about this consciousness space had been normal, so it wasn’t too surprising.

With her hand still resting on the sphere, she chuckled. “Oh, dear benefactor, have you forgotten me? You saved my life once, amidst the onslaught of the Mara-struck. I owe you everything.”

Her voice was soft, tinged with sorrow, like a betrayed lover lamenting their plight.

After a moment of silence, Chen Lin’s voice returned. “...Tingyun?”

“Indeed, it’s me,” Phantylia replied smoothly. “How fortunate that my benefactor still remembers me.”

“No. You’re not Tingyun. Who are you? What are you doing to me?!”

Phantylia couldn’t suppress her laughter, savoring the anguish and confusion in his voice. “While I don’t know how you’re managing to communicate, dear benefactor, the deed is already done. Surely you can feel the changes, can’t you?”

With a final, mocking caress of the sphere, she released all her remaining caution. Her plans were complete; Chen Lin was hers to command.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Phantylia, one of the Seven Lord Ravagers, chosen by the Aeon Nanook.”

“You—!”

“Ah, ah, ah. No need for such hostility. My purpose here is to dismantle the Xianzhou from within, to see its proud fleets crumble under their own weight. But along the way, I found you, dear benefactor—a most delightful surprise.”

She let her voice drip with derision, reveling in her own brilliance. “You’ve disrupted so many of my plans, assisting that General with insights I had meticulously concealed. Yet even your resourcefulness couldn’t account for me.”

Her tone turned mocking. “The mighty Governor, reduced to my puppet. All your actions, your words—shackled and bent to my will. How pathetic.”

Pausing, she added, almost kindly, “But fear not, benefactor. I dislike outright destruction. You and I—we share a love for breaking minds, for watching foes crumble under mental strain. Are we not kindred spirits?”

“And what exactly do you expect from me now? I’ve already been bound, haven’t I? My fate is yours to decide.”

His voice was calm, eerily cold, laced with a chilling rationality.

Phantylia couldn’t help but admire him. Weak in body he may be, but his intelligence and composure were undeniable. It only solidified her conviction: Chen Lin was a rare gem, a prize worth keeping.

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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!