Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [163]

Chen Lin shook his head. “The Empire is also searching for a way home—it’s the wish of all of us. But after being away for so long, sometimes my heart feels all tangled up. I want to go back, but I’m afraid... afraid that when I do, even home will have become unfamiliar.”

The people he once knew might no longer be there. The places he cherished might have changed beyond recognition. Familiar names could vanish, and paths he used to walk might no longer exist.

Time erases everything. When the traces he left in that world are completely wiped away, that place will no longer be home.

Are the family members who raised me still alive? Do the friends I grew up with even remember my name in their conversations?

This wasn’t about intelligence reports or operational objectives. These were the things that Chen Lin truly feared.

He dreaded returning only to find a world where nothing and no one was familiar anymore.

If I ever find out who threw me into this mess, I swear I’ll blow your entire planet into glass!

“It seems that place holds something very important to you,” Kafka mused, blinking her eyes thoughtfully. “But you don’t seem particularly anxious.”

“Being anxious wouldn’t help. Reality won’t change just because I want it to. At least for now, I don’t have the power to change it.” Chen Lin sighed. “So, did you bring me here to drag the Astral Express and the Xianzhou into some grand scheme?”

“You’re forgetting someone,” Kafka replied, waving her slender fingers with a sly smile. “There’s also you, kid.”

“Me?” Chen Lin pointed at himself. “I’m with the Astral Express, aren’t I?”

“Not quite,” Kafka said, shaking her head slightly. “Elio told me he just wanted to stop you from doing something foolish. As for what that is, he didn’t say.”

“Foolish…?” Chen Lin was dumbfounded.

There were plenty of things he considered foolish. For instance, Stelle’s obsession with rummaging through trash cans, or March biting his leg in her sleep—both were foolish in his eyes.

The foolish things he might do? Well, that list was... extensive.

Destroying a planet, clearing out native populations to colonize habitable worlds, or dumping enemy nationals onto an unused planet and wiping them out efficiently—take your pick.

Lots of options, really.

Different people had different definitions of foolishness. Just as Chen Lin was about to press further, Kafka spoke again.

“Kid, you’re one of the few who don’t see us Stellaron Hunters as enemies. But make no mistake—we’re not good people. We’re a group of wanted criminals who’ll do whatever it takes to achieve our goals.”

Chen Lin’s face remained stoic. “And what do you think that makes me? A guy who doesn’t bat an eye before wiping out entire families—thousands of people—from frail elders to infants in cradles? I’m no stranger to making entire planets disappear under orders. Who’s to say one day I won’t give the command to turn a planet with billions of lives into rubble?”

“Pfft…” Kafka couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, her teasing smirk betraying her amusement. “Now that’s a war criminal, you know. The IPC doesn’t like when its clients get destroyed.”

“Why can’t I be a national hero? ‘War criminal’ sounds so unpleasant.”

If anyone else had said this, Kafka would have dismissed them as delusional. But when Chen Lin said it, she didn’t feel that way.

His easygoing demeanor was genuinely disarming, yet the intelligence Silver Wolf had shared about him painted a different picture—a man utterly unburdened by the moral weight of killing.

Take the political upheaval on Jarilo-VI, for instance. While most assumed that only key conspirators would be punished and the masterminds executed, Chen Lin had gone further. He eradicated the entire ruling families, leaving no bloodline intact.

Father’s side, mother’s side—it didn’t matter. Not status, not rank, not even generational alliances. Every friend and relative of those families was annihilated.

The most astonishing part? He presented an ironclad set of evidence to the public, turning what could have been labeled a massacre into a celebrated purge of corruption. Instead of outrage, the people of Jarilo-VI rejoiced, seeing him as a savior who had rid them of parasites.

With abundant food, luxury goods, and newfound security, the citizens couldn’t care less about past rulers. Anyone who dared disrupt their newfound stability became public enemy number one.

Chen Lin didn’t just stabilize Jarilo-VI; he transformed it. He opened historical archives, promoted education, and encouraged critical thinking about events in context. He even included the phrase, “No one is perfect, nor is anyone always right—including myself,” in political science curricula.

This objective attitude cemented his reputation. Combined with his restructured administration and innovative talent systems, Jarilo-VI became a model of efficiency and loyalty—all under his control.

Such calculated ruthlessness and charisma concentrated in a man with mysterious power was unsettling.

The anomalies on his home planet, the peculiar starship technologies, the enigmatic space stations—his origins raised countless questions.

Kafka firmly believed that if someone truly provoked Chen Lin, they’d face a retaliation on an apocalyptic scale.

Before coming here, even Elio—normally composed—had shown rare unease when Kafka asked what he foresaw.

“Elio, what did you see?”

Elio hadn’t hesitated. “A universe reduced to black holes, dead and silent... nothing remains.”

Kafka considered this the most catastrophic vision Elio had ever shared. While he hadn’t detailed what led to such devastation, Kafka suspected it was tied to the young man before her.

She had even asked Elio whether Chen Lin’s death would stabilize the future.

Each time, Elio shook his head. “The effects of his actions won’t vanish. The outcome would only worsen.”

What kind of influence does he wield?

Kafka gazed at Chen Lin with curiosity. The more she observed him, the more his appearance and demeanor captivated her. It wasn’t predatory interest or the desire to manipulate him—it was a genuine curiosity and appreciation for his mystery.

How does he do it?

“Oh my, does this mean… you want to be friends with us?” Kafka’s fingers drummed lightly on her palm. “Even if we’re a group of wanted criminals, hated across the galaxy?”

“Pfft, that’s their problem, not mine.” Chen Lin snorted, the disdain on his face unmasked. “I walk my own path, unaffected by anyone’s notions of the future or fate. Those who stand before us can choose to join, comply, or support. The Empire will allow them to stand behind us, but we will never tolerate anyone standing in our way!”

Kafka feigned surprise. “What if they choose to oppose you?”

“Then they’ll have only one choice left—death.”

Though his words came with a smile, there was no sense of jest in his tone. It was clear that for anyone obstructing his path, being crushed was the only inevitable outcome.

“All this talk of justice and evil, law-abiding citizens or fugitives—none of it matters. People’s opinions are shaped by where they stand. Their accusations and wanted posters have nothing to do with me. Neither my decisions nor the Empire’s decisions care for idle gossip. The Empire remembers every finger pointed at it. And when the sleeping giant awakens, retribution will begin.”

Chen Lin raised a finger. “And another thing—this isn’t about befriending ‘you all.’ It’s about befriending you.”

“Why just me?” Kafka rested her chin on her hand.

Chen Lin chuckled. “For now, you’re the only Stellaron Hunter in front of me. Doesn’t that make you feel special? Besides, it never hurts to sow some goodwill. If one day the galaxy turns against me, I could always ask you for the best escape routes.”

Kafka blinked, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

She didn’t know if Chen Lin’s words were genuine, if there was hidden intent behind them, or if he truly grasped how dangerous it was to befriend her.

But she believed him.

Kafka had always thought people preferred hearing things they were inclined to believe—and she was no exception.

Who said someone who blurs truth and lies must be deceitful? To Kafka, such a person was the purest of all.

For such individuals, achieving their goals through any means came naturally. They had no need to disguise right and wrong, and ethical boundaries became malleable tools, manipulated as needed. They acted boldly, indifferent to how history would judge them.

Chen Lin’s openness about his motives, his willingness to speak candidly even about himself—wasn’t that, in its own way, a form of purity?

Kafka felt as if she’d stumbled upon a treasure. It wasn’t about the Stellaron Hunters or her own goals but rather an inner resonance—a rare and exhilarating connection.

However…

“Sorry, but this isn’t part of Elio’s script.” Kafka stood, her calm smile betraying no hint of her true thoughts. Her voice was soft and lazy, yet firm. “Besides, time’s up. Everyone else—except you—is surprisingly punctual.”

She gave Chen Lin a playful wink, her teasing smile met with a resigned eye-roll.

“Honestly, I’m not great at fighting. I doubt I could beat you.” Chen Lin also stood.

Kafka grinned. “Oh? So, what’s your specialty? Genocide?”

“…Wow, you nailed it.”

“Well, let’s at least put on a show, shall we? Call it a favor from your bad big sister. Sound good?”

Before Chen Lin could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air. Three figures burst onto the platform, with March 7th leading the way, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“Chen Lin…? It’s Chen Lin! Hey! What did you do to him?!”

Kafka didn’t answer. At some point, she had already drawn her twin submachine guns. With a subtle glance toward Chen Lin, she…

Bang!

Her kick connected with Chen Lin’s hastily raised arms, sending him sliding several meters before he managed to stabilize himself with psionics.

Gunfire erupted. One weapon was aimed at Chen Lin, while the other sprayed bullets toward March 7th and her companions.

Chen Lin’s left arm, bruised from Kafka’s kick, trembled slightly. He realized he had overlooked something—Kafka’s famed Spirit Whisper was only one aspect of her capabilities. It was foolish to assume she relied solely on that.

A charming, delicate woman couldn’t survive countless battles across the stars without some hard-earned strength. If Spirit Whisper didn’t work, her next move was simple: brute force.

Her strength rivals Stelle’s. How does she even build that kind of muscle…?

Chen Lin’s thoughts raced, but time didn’t pause for him. Dozens of bullets closed in, and while his psionic shield was effective, it wasn’t his only means of defense.

His multi-threaded mind had already completed calculations in milliseconds, altering the material world itself.

March 7th, Stelle, and Welt had never let their guard down. The moment Kafka turned her guns on them, they moved in sync.

March cried out and leapt aside. Stelle braced with her flame spear from Belobog, summoning a protective shield.

Welt, having noticed the shift earlier, loosened his grip on his cane, his thoughts racing in astonishment.

“March, Stelle, look ahead,” Welt warned.

“Huh?”

“What the—?!”

Kafka’s bullets disintegrated mid-flight, transforming into metallic liquid that dripped harmlessly onto the ground. Her grenades turned into plastic sheets, metal scraps, and piles of powder, scattering uselessly.

Even Kafka froze for a moment, her movements stalling.

What the hell? Did my grenades just turn into crafting materials?

Her gaze snapped to Chen Lin, who stood not far away with furrowed brows. Instantly, her confusion melted into understanding.

“How interesting.”

A violet blade crackling with lightning materialized in her hand.

Shing!

Clang!

In a flash, Kafka’s sword clashed with Stelle’s flame spear, forcing the latter to expose a weak point. Instead of pursuing the attack, Kafka leapt away, evading a sudden spatial distortion that fragmented the floor and shattered March’s ice arrows.

Appearing before Chen Lin in the blink of an eye, Kafka swung her blade—only to falter mid-strike. A sudden heaviness descended, catching her off guard.

So this is his handiwork?

Kafka smiled faintly as a feigned gasp escaped her lips. Before she could react, her weapon was wrenched from her grasp by an unseen force.

“I’ll hold onto this for a few days,” Chen Lin whispered, stepping forward.

Kafka gave a barely perceptible nod.

Boom!

A burst of air sent March and the others staggering back, shielding their faces from the gust.

Kafka, meanwhile, was sent tumbling back several meters. She clutched her abdomen where Chen Lin’s strike had landed but found no pain—only a fading, unseen barrier.

What the hell was that? Even the impact was neutralized.

She had prepared to take the hit, only to realize Chen Lin hadn’t truly struck her. It was all for show.

When he said ‘surface work,’ he meant it literally.

Feigning injury, Kafka knelt on the ground, coughing weakly.

Moments later, more figures arrived.

“Your every move falls within my divinations…” Fu Xuan’s voice rang out confidently.

Before she could finish, Kafka tossed her guns to the ground and raised her hands in mock surrender. Her tone was feeble, her expression pitiful.

“You got me. I surrender.”

“…”

Fu Xuan, who had intended to make a grand entrance, descended awkwardly. Posing dramatically, her expression stiffened.

This isn’t what I foresaw at all!

She had envisioned herself as a heroic savior, descending just in time to rescue her brother from peril, showcasing her mastery of divination and cementing her mysterious and powerful image in his mind.

But now…

I shouldn’t be here. I should be underground…

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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!