Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [173]

In a shadowed, secluded corner of the Xianzhou, the cold breath of death permeated the air, a lifeless stillness broken only by flickering lights casting faint shadows across the dark expanse.

The candlelight swayed, illuminating the sweep of a figure’s hem as they passed.

The jailer straightened, the plates of his chest armor clinking softly.

The approaching figure stopped before a cell, raising a hand to signal the jailer, who bowed and retreated silently.

“Cough…”

Jing Yuan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing through the iron bars at the figure bound in the corner. Clearing his throat lightly, he spoke.

“A hundred-billion-credit fugitive from the Ming Company, lured and captured so easily... It makes one curious. Why does the bait on this hook keep multiplying? Bait should either catch the fish and be devoured or dissolve uselessly in the water. How does it keep increasing? Don’t you agree?”

“When the Stellaron Hunters arrived, the Stellaron disaster on Luofu erupted immediately. While I won’t deny my suspicions of your connection to the Stellaron, I must admit that your methods, aside from a few untimely disruptions, have been rather effective.”

“And yet, instead of catching a fish, I’ve reeled in another piece of bait.”

“Or do you think I don’t dare to kill you?”

Jing Yuan’s tone was typically calm and genial, regardless of rank or circumstance. Yet as he spoke, his voice grew increasingly cold, an unmistakable edge sharpening his words.

Kafka, sitting bound in the cell, merely smiled back at him. Even with her powers completely sealed, leaving her no more resistant than a lamb awaiting slaughter, she appeared utterly at ease.

It seemed imprisonment was a familiar routine for her.

“When the time is right, I’ll tell the Xianzhou what they need to know. But that time hasn’t come yet,” she said casually. “Surely, the esteemed General of Luofu, one of the Five Great Yasha of the Skies, wouldn’t feel so uneasy visiting an unarmed prisoner like me.”

“Enough.” Jing Yuan turned, his voice frosty. “If this is all you wanted to tell me, then we have nothing to discuss.”

“Nothing to say about the Xianzhou’s future?”

Kafka’s smile deepened, her alluring eyes shimmering with amusement. “Even if a storm were to sweep across the universe, tearing the Xianzhou into fragments and dust, you wouldn’t care? Neither you nor your successor can escape the storm. No force can hold out alone. And yet, you still refuse to listen?”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, but his footsteps faltered, stopping in their retreat.

“Do you think I’d trust the ravings of a prisoner?”

Kafka chuckled softly to herself. “The gates long sealed will open again. An ancient presence will carve out an unknown nebula—a storm’s eye filled with treasures richer than gold, and horrors that would terrify even the most powerful corporations.

“This could be the reshuffling of the universe’s order—or its descent into chaos.

“Whether or not the Xianzhou believes it doesn’t matter. The hammer that shatters fate lies in another’s hands, but the Stellaron Hunters will always remain slaves to destiny.”

“...”

Jing Yuan stood silently, his back to Kafka’s cell.

“Whether the Xianzhou believes it or not, I don’t care. The Stellaron isn’t connected to us—we came to the Xianzhou for something else. The Stellaron… heh, is just a catalyst. A chance for the Xianzhou to become a force capable of weathering the storm.”

“How bold,” Jing Yuan muttered, his tone icy.

“Oh my, the script didn’t account for any of this. But I was told to improvise if needed,” Kafka replied, her playful expression fading into something more serious. “Personally and professionally, I thought I’d give you a heads-up. What you do with it is your business.”

Her voice lowered, each word deliberate. “When the storm comes, he will be the critical variable.”

Kafka’s voice lingered in the dim cell, echoing off the walls alongside the metallic groan of the iron door sliding shut.

Her words followed Jing Yuan as his footsteps grew fainter, the oppressive silence of the prison returning.

Jing Yuan left the dark confinement, his mind heavy with thought. Glancing at his phone, he read the message from Fu Xuan, his expression inscrutable.

Fu Xuan: “General, the Divination Division’s formations have been fully repaired. The Qiongguan Array will be operational as early as tomorrow night. You are required to attend the interrogation—no excuses this time.”

Jing Yuan: “I knew such a minor issue wouldn’t trouble Fu Xuan. The complexity of the Qiongguan Array is unmatched in Luofu, and only Fu Xuan can manage it. I’ll continue to rely on your unparalleled expertise!”

Fu Xuan replied swiftly: “Good that you understand.”

“By the way, I’ll personally inform your younger brother and the train crew. While I’m at it, I’ll remind a certain diviner to return to work. You’re busy enough as it is—leave it to me.”

Jing Yuan stared at the message and sighed heavily, looking skyward.

“Whatever storm lies ahead, let’s set that aside for now. The Xianzhou’s own storm has yet to be resolved. I don’t know if the footage we released reached the Astral Express, or if he saw it. If he did… would he set foot on this land?”

He picked up a withered yellow leaf from the ground, turning it over in his hand. Though it was midday, the wind carried a biting chill.

As he walked, he murmured to himself.

“The Stellaron Hunters have no reason to lie. And even if they did, their lies could reveal the truth. If the Stellaron didn’t come from the Stellaron Hunters… then who brought it?”

“An ill-timed confrontation has exposed cracks too soon. The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus must have a powerful backer to rely on. But who emboldened their minions to emerge from the shadows?”

“Stellaron, Stellaron Hunters, the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, and their backer… and whoever else has yet to show their hand. The Stellaron is tied to one of them, but the puzzle is missing two pieces.”

He chuckled bitterly. “What do you think, my dear brother…? Ha, force of habit.”

Ever since the Stellaron crisis erupted and he met Chen Lin, Jing Yuan had developed the habit of pulling his younger brother into any headache-inducing discussions. The two never mentioned alliances explicitly, yet they acted as though one had been formed.

Chen Lin had a knack for quickly analyzing key points from limited information or pinpointing precise approaches to solving problems. His insight and unconventional angles often left Jing Yuan deeply impressed.

Take the unrest within the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, for example. Chen Lin had uncovered the issue from within the Xianzhou, presenting both an opportunity to force them into the open and to monitor their activities.

Jing Yuan still remembered Chen Lin’s comment during a chess game:

“The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus is just a pawn. If they’re moving so boldly, it means they think they can trade up for something more valuable.”

Infiltration to gather intelligence was a last resort. The real aim was to test whether hidden forces were tied to the Medicine King’s backers.

This was why Jing Yuan had entrusted valuable resources—so he could douse the flames with oil the moment they ignited.

When the fire raged, if no other areas caught alight, it would mean the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus and other factions weren’t aligned in their interests.

All the Xianzhou had to do was shift the blame for the Stellaron disaster, rendering the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus outcasts in Luofu. Public opinion would turn against them, and the military’s morale would rise, expanding the Xianzhou’s reach into the shadows.

From the current situation, it was clear the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus was just one of the schemers. Chen Lin hadn’t specified the next steps, but Jing Yuan knew exactly what to do.

Focus their strength and crush the visible pests.

This time was no different. Though the issue was more convoluted, Chen Lin wasn’t here, and this wasn’t the familiar chessboard of the Senzu Bureau.

“My dear brother has a natural gift for strategy,” Jing Yuan muttered with a wry smile.

Every plan they had discussed assumed the Stellaron Hunters brought the Stellaron. But now it seemed the truth was far more complex.

Jing Yuan had confidence in his ability to devise countermeasures, but…

The Xianzhou might not have enough time.

“Personally and professionally, I hope the Xianzhou and the Empire can unite against the coming storm. When it passes, I want to see what kind of storm the Stellaron Hunters spoke of.”

---

Back in the inn’s lounge—which could easily pass for a high-end conference room—the members of the Astral Express found themselves engaged in a mix of casual conversation and minor preparations.

The young Chief Scientist of the Empire, the embodiment of Belobog's will, and the Empire itself all sat unaware of the potential dangers lurking beyond the L-Gate Chen Lin was about to open.

Sitting on a single-seater sofa, Chen Lin leaned back with a calm expression. March 7th stood behind him, leaning her arms on his broad shoulders with a carefree grin.

“Hey, Lin, does it look good if I wear this here?”

She dangled a small red luck charm near his shoulder.

“Hanging it on your belt might look better than your sleeve,” Chen Lin remarked dryly.

“But my belt already has a bow on it!” March 7th clapped her thigh and gasped in realization. “I know! My waist! If I hang it here, doesn’t it look very ‘Xianzhou’?”

The charm in question was a red auspicious knot, delicately woven. While the design of the charms was identical, the inscriptions on each differed.

Unlike March 7th’s playful antics, Welt accepted the gift with grace. For his first present since arriving on the Xianzhou, he gave Qingque a formal nod of appreciation.

“This is a wonderful gift. Thank you, Miss Qingque.”

“You’re too kind, Mr. Welt. I’ve been imposing on you these past few days, so it’s the least I could do,” Qingque replied with a modest wave of her hand. “As for the jadeite pieces I mentioned, I’ve asked a friend to craft them. Since they’re handmade, it might take some time.”

“Miss Qingque, the jade pieces you spoke of remind me of a game my mother enjoyed back home. I’d like to try and learn it if I can,” Welt noted thoughtfully.

Qingque beamed. “Your family really has great taste, Mr. Welt! You’re so polite and considerate, too. The game’s not complicated at all! Here’s a rulebook—take a look whenever you have some time. You’ll pick it up quickly!”

She handed over a small, simple booklet. Welt began reading it closely, and March 7th and Stelle leaned over curiously to get a peek at the Xianzhou game that seemed so popular.

Meanwhile, Chen Lin sat motionless, his arms crossed and eyes closed. If not for the occasional twitch of his fingers, he could have been mistaken for being asleep.

The Astral Express crew was used to this side of Chen Lin. To them, his quiet moments often involved cryptic finger movements, as if he were navigating some invisible interface. Out of respect, no one pried into his business.

March 7th suddenly exclaimed in surprise. “Wait! Miss Qingque, you wrote this rulebook?”

“Of course,” Qingque replied matter-of-factly. “The game didn’t originally exist on the Xianzhou. If it had, I wouldn’t have been so bored during my school years. It only became popular here in recent years. Since good games are wasted if no one knows how to play them, I took the time to write a guide for beginners. Now everyone can enjoy it and unwind during their breaks. That’s more than enough for me.”

Stelle was engrossed in the rulebook. “There are so many card combinations! And they all line up so neatly!”

Welt nodded thoughtfully. “The rules are simple, but the design must have been quite complex.”

March 7th tilted her head in curiosity. “Miss Qingque, doesn’t making a guide like this get you into trouble with the game’s creator? I mean, aren’t there rules about patents? I thought companies or governments usually reserved the rights to these things. If the inventor of this jade game finds out you’re making and distributing rulebooks, wouldn’t that cause problems? Doesn’t the Xianzhou protect those kinds of rights?”

“Those are called patents,” Welt interjected.

“Yes! Patents! Doesn’t the Xianzhou have something like that?”

Qingque shook her head. “It’s not that serious. I never thought of making money from the game. The concept came from some old texts I found in the Divination Commission’s archives. I just added some extra rules to make it playable. As long as people are having fun, I’m happy. Money doesn’t matter.”

Welt and Stelle exchanged knowing glances, their expressions subtly shifting. March 7th, oblivious, continued warning Qingque about potential trouble.

Welt finally sighed and interrupted, “March, haven’t you realized? The game’s creator is standing right in front of you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t call myself the creator,” Qingque admitted sheepishly, scratching her head. “I just thought it was a shame the game had been forgotten. I had some free time, so I added a few rules. I didn’t expect it to become this popular.”

March 7th blushed furiously, wishing she could find a hole to crawl into.

Sensing her discomfort, Chen Lin finished fiddling with his unseen project and steered the conversation to the group’s visit to the Cloud Knights, giving March 7th some relief.

Welt recounted their trip in meticulous detail, recalling nearly every word spoken and event encountered.

“That tree was enormous! When we saw it from the pier, we were stunned. Even Miss Qingzu couldn’t explain it, but thankfully Tingyun recognized it. She said it’s called ‘Jianmu,’ an ancient treasure that the Xianzhou once prided itself on!”

March 7th had already forgotten her earlier embarrassment, eagerly sharing her impressions of the Jianmu tree towering over the cloud seas.

“That’s indeed Jianmu,” Chen Lin confirmed. “It’s deeply tied to some of the Xianzhou’s past wounds.”

Chen Lin had heard plenty of stories about the Xianzhou’s history from Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan. His explanation added more detail and depth to the discussion.

Gazing out the window, he caught a glimpse of the ancient tree’s towering form stretching into the heavens.

Qingque, though surprised, seemed more excited than anything.

“Old Chen, it’s one thing for you to know all this from reading ancient texts, but since when did the Cloud Knights have such an interest in history? I always thought their job was to catch speeding starskiffs and host visiting trade delegations…”

She laughed before continuing, “Jianmu is nearly forgotten by the younger generations, except for a few history buffs. I never expected anyone in the Cloud Knights to care about something like this. Maybe I should get to know them better—who knows, I might find a game even better than this jade one!”

---

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!