Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [120]

The next day, at Belobog’s Administrative District Plaza, the Trailblazer team gathered once more beneath the towering statue. With Supreme Guardian Bronya and her trusted aides bidding them farewell, they officially departed Jarilo-VI.

After months away, they returned to the Astral Express.

“Welcome back!” Himeko greeted them at the train’s entrance, having been waiting for their arrival. She clapped warmly as the group crossed the bridge connecting Chen Lin’s escort ship to the train.

March 7th bounded forward and leapt into Himeko’s arms, burying her head between Himeko’s ample chest. “Himeko, I missed you so much!!”

Himeko chuckled, stroking March’s head affectionately. “And how was this journey, my little March?”

“It was the most rewarding one yet!” March exclaimed, gesturing animatedly. “Watching a nation grow and thrive thanks to our help—it felt like a dream come true!”

“Well, congratulations on completing your mission,” Himeko said warmly, glancing toward Chen Lin, who stood calmly nearby. “Welcome back to the family, Chen Lin. I was worried you might stay behind on Jarilo-VI. The train would feel a little less lively without you.”

Himeko had already heard a summary of Jarilo-VI’s events from Dan Heng, including the fact that the planet now had a new master.

“Something like this isn’t enough to keep me here,” Chen Lin said with a smile. “Besides, I’m counting on the train to take me to new places and broaden my horizons.”

“And how was your first trailblazing experience?”

“It was incredible. Facing the unknown, understanding it, and ultimately overcoming it—it’s a bit of a cliché, but it was an entirely new experience for me.”

Himeko nodded approvingly. “The train is never the final destination, but it always moves forward. If you ever have something on your mind, I’ll be here to listen. And if you need help, I’m more than happy to assist.”

“Thanks, Himeko.”

March soon pulled Himeko aside to enthusiastically recount everything they had encountered on Jarilo-VI. Meanwhile, Dan Heng greeted everyone briefly before heading straight to his room to rest.

Chen Lin, though mentally alert, was physically tired. He intended to follow Dan Heng’s lead but was stopped by Welt.

“Something on your mind, Uncle Yang?” Chen Lin asked, following Welt to a quiet corner of the lounge, where they sat side by side.

Welt, though usually reserved, had a reliable, fatherly presence. Chen Lin found it easy to respect someone so steady and experienced.

“I have a question. If you don’t want to answer, feel free to say so,” Welt began, making his intentions and respect for boundaries clear.

“Go ahead, Uncle Yang. If I can answer, I will.”

Welt glanced toward Himeko and March, who were chatting in the distance, before lowering his voice. “Do you know about ‘Herrschers’?”

“Herrschers?” Chen Lin blinked, caught completely off guard. “No, what are they?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘Honkai energy’?”

“Never.”

“Hmm… I see.” Welt sighed softly. “I have a friend whose abilities bear a striking resemblance to yours. When I first observed your power manifesting, I thought there might be a connection to my old world. But it seems I was mistaken.”

He turned his gaze to the train window, where a massive space station hovered above a bright star.

“She could manipulate Honkai energy to reverse entropy and create what’s essentially negative entropy. To most people, it looked like she could conjure objects and structures out of thin air.”

Chen Lin frowned slightly, contemplating the description. Welt’s friend’s powers did sound eerily similar to his ability to use the Stellaris UI to construct buildings and summon life forms. In many ways, his own power also seemed to defy the laws of reality.

He recalled how the Stellaris event chain allowed him to annihilate powerful enemies with seemingly simple choices. The Doomsday Beast he encountered at Herta Space Station shouldn’t have been destroyed by the energy of three exploding frigates. Yet, because of a single UI option, it was reduced to fragments by the shockwave.

It wasn’t scientific at all.

But then again, Chen Lin’s ability to operate the Stellaris UI wasn’t grounded in science either. It felt as though the UI was backed by a higher-dimensional force, ensuring that its selected outcomes were realized, no matter how they contradicted observable reality.

He himself was an anomaly, so how could he dismiss others with extraordinary abilities?

“Could your friend create living beings?” Chen Lin asked.

“Yes,” Welt replied without hesitation. “She could construct certain organic life forms and even structures imbued with Honkai properties. But if you’re unfamiliar with Honkai energy, these concepts might be difficult to grasp.”

“I really don’t understand it,” Chen Lin admitted. “But my power is called ‘psionics.’ It’s a form of mental energy derived from one’s consciousness. Everyone has imagination, and psionics materializes those imaginings into reality. It can be observed and studied through calculations, and theoretically, the ultimate goal is for one’s will to shape the world entirely.”

“That’s… far beyond comparison.”

Welt nodded thoughtfully. “Your abilities have a much higher potential than Herrschers. A Herrscher’s limits are defined; they can’t achieve the kind of reality-altering feats you’re describing.”

“But psionics is a long road. What I mentioned is only the theoretical ceiling for its current stage of development,” Chen Lin clarified.

“Well, anything observable has room for improvement. Honkai energy, on the other hand… let’s just say it’s complicated.”

Sensing that he had asked enough for now, Welt decided to change the topic. “When you have time, I’d like to tell you more about my homeland. Consider it an exchange—would that be alright?”

“Uncle Yang, you’re being too formal. It’s no big deal, but if you want to share, I’d be happy to listen,” Chen Lin replied with a light laugh.

“You really are… mature,” Welt said with a faint smile. “You’ve been through a lot, so take some time to rest. If you get hungry, let me know—I know my way around the kitchen.”

For Welt, this conversation had stirred emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. While the outcome wasn’t what he’d hoped for, he understood how rare it would be to meet someone from his homeland.

Chen Lin’s willingness to discuss his powers openly spoke volumes about his trust. Such abilities could easily serve as life-saving secrets, and most people would guard them jealously.

Of course, Chen Lin didn’t consider psionics to be his ultimate trump card. His Ascension Origin encompassed far more than psionics alone. If not for the requirement to complete the initial ascensions—psionics, genetics, and cybernetics—he would’ve already unlocked some of the more advanced ascension theories out of sheer curiosity.

Paradox Interactive players don’t lack anything except an insatiable curiosity!

Who Cares if It’s Useful? Let’s Test It First.

If Welt had known that Chen Lin not only had "extraordinary abilities" but also the financial equivalent of an infinite treasury via the Stellaris UI, he might’ve been too stunned to speak.

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?” Himeko walked over with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

“Not really,” Welt admitted. “But Chen Lin is certainly a likable young man. He’s mature in ways that make you wonder—what kind of experiences could shape someone like him? If his appearance matched his age, I’d be even more curious.”

“Age doesn’t always correlate with experience,” Himeko remarked gently. “Someone could live for decades but stay cloistered, never venturing beyond their comfort zone. From what I know, Chen Lin isn’t very old.”

“How would you know?” Welt raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Himeko chuckled. “When Chen Lin first boarded the train, wasn’t his room missing some essentials? Once, I remembered he didn’t have a trash can, so I brought one over. Through the door, I overheard him talking in his sleep.”

Intrigued, Welt tilted his head.

“He must’ve been dreaming about work. He muttered something like, ‘Director, I’m just a recent graduate—I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility.’”

“Recent graduate…” Welt calculated quickly. “If his world is anything like mine, that would put him at about 24 or 25.”

“Dan Heng mentioned that Chen Lin recalled fragments of his memory,” Himeko added thoughtfully. “He said Chen Lin’s people perished in a great disaster, along with their homeland. His fallen comrades entrusted him with their lingering spirits, urging him to find their long-lost home. But those people…” She paused. “I suspect they weren’t human in the traditional sense. Perhaps they were something else, connected to Chen Lin in a unique way.”

Welt sighed, his voice tinged with melancholy. “What a resilient child. I hope he succeeds.”

“Yes,” Himeko agreed, her tone reflective.

---

Meanwhile, in Chen Lin’s Room…

Unlike the somber atmosphere in the lounge, Chen Lin didn’t even have time to rest. His inbox was utterly flooded with messages.

The Psionic Theory Primer he’d handed over to Herta had seemingly dismantled some of her prior calculations. Although Chen Lin’s annotations provided guidance, Herta’s sharp but unconventional thought processes generated a barrage of bizarre questions.

Beyond addressing Herta’s issues, Chen Lin also had to coordinate with Himeko about the expert teams supporting Jarilo-VI.

For a planet whose technological development had been abruptly stunted at the early electrical age, the sheer volume of experts required for its revival was astronomical.

The first wave of specialists that Asta had gathered and sent consisted of over 2,000 people. This massive group was already en route to the designated star system, and Asta was now planning the composition of the second and third waves.

Curious, Chen Lin asked about the backgrounds of these experts.

He was stunned by what he learned.

The Interstellar Peace Corporation had an award recognizing exceptional scientific contributions across the known galaxy. Over 900,000 individuals had received it since its inception—a highly prestigious honor, more valuable than the credits that accompanied it. Among the 2,000 specialists heading to Jarilo-VI, over a hundred were award recipients.

Chen Lin cautiously typed a message.

Chen Lin: “How much did this cost you?”
Asta: “Oh, just a little—basically snack money.”
Chen Lin: “How much, exactly?”
Asta: “Not much. Only 1.7 billion credits.”

Chen Lin’s jaw dropped. While galactic credits weren’t the most valuable currency, 1.7 billion was far from "snack money."

He wanted to tell Asta he would pay her back, but as the words formed in his mind, he faltered.

After all, the only credits he had were the 100,000 he’d received from Herta upon arriving in this universe.

How long would it take to repay her? He estimated it might not be feasible until Jarilo-VI integrated into the galactic trade market.

If this universe had online forums, he’d post a thread titled “I Owe a Rich Girl 1.7 Billion Credits. What Should I Do?” and pray for practical advice.

But there were no forums here.

Chen Lin: “I’ll pay you back once I earn the money. I insist.”
Asta: “No need! It’s just a small amount.”
Chen Lin: “Even if I have to sell myself, I’ll repay you!”
Asta: “(shocked emoji) Absolutely not! Don’t even think about it. If you do that, I’ll ignore you forever!”

Despite Asta’s protests, Chen Lin stubbornly drafted a digital IOU, took a photo of it, and sent it to her. He didn’t like the idea of owing anyone money, even if the amount was overwhelming. With Jarilo-VI’s potential for growth, he was confident he could repay her eventually.

Reluctantly, Asta accepted the IOU but repeatedly warned him against doing anything “weird” to settle the debt.

“Starting off with a 1.7 billion debt. Classic me,” Chen Lin muttered.

He realized his post-transmigration life seemed intrinsically tied to debt. First, the Stellaris event chain had drained his resources to the point of bankruptcy. Now, he owed Asta an astronomical sum, with future expenditures likely pushing the total into the hundreds of billions.

“Well, I’ll pay it all back someday. No point stressing over it now.”

Shaking his head, Chen Lin opened Bronya’s message.

Bronya: “Mentor, travel safely. I’ll await your return.”

Ah, my sweet, considerate student.

For hours, Chen Lin became a relentless message-answering machine. Asta, Herta, Bronya, Seele, Clara, Natasha, Serval…

Nearly everyone he knew had sent him something, leaving him with no respite.

Finally, after clearing the backlog of messages, he collapsed onto his bed.

“AWSL.”

Though his mind remained sharp, his body was exhausted. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Considering how dangerous the train’s route is, the lack of pirate attacks means one thing: Pom-Pom must not be someone to mess with.

With that fleeting thought, Chen Lin drifted off, utterly spent after nearly five sleepless days.

---

T/N: yippe first arc done :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!