Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [255]

The purple mist in front of him swayed continuously, giving a clear affirmative response.

Chen Lin pondered for a moment. There was no downside to letting the [Zroni Nexus] grow stronger—it only benefited him. If he could fulfill its needs, he should. But last time, when he burned a massive amount of [Zro Dust] to refine Phantylia, the void didn’t seem to "break through" in any noticeable way. Instead, the space inside simply expanded tenfold, and more strange objects appeared within…

So, this time, he decided to ask about the quantity first.

“How much do you need?”

Upon hearing his question, the purple mist quickly coalesced into a massive container about four meters in diameter and nearly half a meter tall, which landed in front of him with a loud clang.

Chen Lin’s eyes widened.

The container even shook slightly now and then, looking exactly like those pitiful yet insatiably hungry beggars he used to see on the streets.

Absolutely pathetic… but also absurdly demanding.

Perhaps realizing it was asking for a bit too much, the mist formed a small hand and pointed at the Arbor Crystal Sphere that Chen Lin had left here. It seemed to be saying, That thing is almost fully charged! You’ll be able to burn another batch soon anyway.

Clang…

“Let me think about it.”

Chen Lin stood there, deep in thought. He had a feeling that the [Zroni Nexus] had changed significantly.

Previously, it could only transmit simple affirmations or denials into his mind—essentially just “yes” or “no.” But now, it could manipulate a strand of psionic energy independently, communicate through gestures, and even express nuanced ideas. Its intelligence seemed to have increased considerably.

Clang-clang…

The psionic container trembled again.

“Hold on, let me think a little longer.” Chen Lin continued to observe.

Clang-clang-clang!

The psionic container started shaking non-stop. It didn’t seem to consider the fact that it was nothing more than a psionically condensed entity—so how was it even producing these metallic collision sounds?

But it understood one thing clearly: unless Chen Lin agreed, it wasn’t getting a single grain of [Zro Dust].

With that in mind, it went all in.

It started begging—throwing a tantrum, whining, and sulking in protest…

Chen Lin never in his life imagined he’d one day see a bucket acting spoiled. He was absolutely dumbfounded.

Suppressing his laughter, he sighed, “Fine, but leave some behind for me, alright? I’ll need it later. Don’t make me come back only to find you’ve eaten it all… At most, I’ll give you this much.”

He wrote a number in the air—600 jin.

For context, the total stockpile here was only a little over 900 jin. Even after rewarding everyone under his command, he had barely used 15 jin in total. Giving up 600 jin was extremely generous.

The [Zroni Nexus] was overjoyed.

The psionic container vibrated excitedly before suddenly melting into a liquid state and rubbing itself all over Chen Lin—like an overly affectionate pet.

However, after only a few moments, it vanished, reappearing next to the pile of [Zro Dust], where it eagerly began consuming the dust in small mouthfuls.

Chen Lin had no complaints about its voracious appetite. After all, if it hadn’t been for the [Zroni Nexus], Phantylia would have been a major headache to deal with. Sure, he had other ways to force her out, but that would have caused catastrophic destruction to Luofu…

Greedy little thing. He shook his head. Let’s see what this place turns into after it’s done feasting.

With that thought, he took a firm step forward and left the [Zroni Nexus].

Little did he know, the moment he departed, the slow, steady consumption of [Zro Dust] suddenly surged—like a hurricane sweeping through a wheat field.

In an instant, nearly 80% of his remaining [Zro Dust] stockpile vanished.

Then, from within the void… came the satisfied sound of a belch.

And then—silence.

---

Back in the metallic chamber, Chen Lin relayed the decrypted password to Serval and asked if she could extract the data.

With the most frustrating part—cracking the encryption—now resolved, data transmission was a trivial task. Within moments, Serval had seamlessly transferred all the stored information into her portable terminal.

Seele leaned in curiously. “Open it up. Let’s see what’s inside.”

Serval glanced at Chen Lin. After receiving his nod of approval, she accessed the files. However, due to technical incompatibilities, much of the content appeared as garbled text or display errors. Fortunately, some of the data was still readable.

Gepard frowned. “These characters… I’ve never seen them before.”

“No shit!” Serval smacked her little brother on the forehead.

Turning back to Chen Lin, she asked, “Should we send these texts up for decryption?”

Deciphering an unknown script wasn’t all that difficult—especially for a mechanical civilization. Their writing systems usually followed strict logical patterns, meaning that as long as they had enough samples, linguistic researchers could quickly establish translation points.

The only question was… how long would it take?

It seemed like they would have to wait for a proper decryption.

To everyone’s surprise, Chen Lin flipped through the data casually and remarked, “I recognize all these characters. I skimmed some documents at the Imperial Library for a few days, and I ended up learning the entire language by accident. No need for decryption.”

Seele, Gepard, and Serval: “???”

Was this even humanly possible? Learning an entire civilization’s language just by glancing at some records? If the linguistics students at the Army and Air Force academies heard this, they would probably riot.

Sure, psionic energy did enhance memory, but learning a new writing system still took considerable effort. Even Seele—who had undergone a second psionic awakening and could compress three to four years of coursework into half a month—would still need over a month to fully grasp a foreign language and use it at a native level. And here Chen Lin was, saying he just picked it up?

Seele quickly recovered from her shock, grabbed his hand, and eagerly asked, “Lin-ge, translate it for us! What does it say?”

Chen Lin skimmed through the text, explaining as he read, “Most of this is about the production process and programming of these mechanical frames. As we suspected, they were designed as labor robots to perform simple tasks.”

His expression suddenly darkened. He lowered his voice and continued, “Grand Calibration, Year 3816, September 13—cease all frame assembly and recall all defective units for destruction? ‘Grand Calibration’... What kind of calendar system is this?”

“Never heard of it,” Serval said, taking notes. “But based on the wording, it sounds like they performed some kind of mass system-wide recalibration.”

“Like how Svarog adjusts the robots under his command?” Gepard guessed.

“Exactly.” Serval nodded. “If a unit malfunctions, Svarog either reprograms or scraps it. They might have been doing something similar.”

Most of the remaining data detailed the factory’s production records—updates to programming logic, the number of frames receiving software revisions, orders for new units, and the corresponding serial codes.

By analyzing the recorded serial numbers, Serval compiled a list of the different robot models produced here. Phantylia, who had been idly browsing the data, suddenly noticed something odd.

“Master! Look at this!” Phantylia called out urgently. “The XTB-45 model—isn’t it a combat frame?”

She pointed at the records. “Production ceased in Year 3849 of the Grand Calibration, but back in Year 3817, a massive number of these combat units were produced—over 9.15 million of them from this facility alone. But the records list most of the losses as ‘missing.’ That’s suspicious.”

Chen Lin frowned, flipping through more records. Sure enough, the data matched what Phantylia had pointed out.

This factory had been operational for 170 years, and for the first 130, over 99% of its output consisted of labor frames. Then, suddenly, they switched to mass-producing combat models. That was definitely unusual.

“Maybe they faced a crisis,” Chen Lin speculated. “A war, perhaps? If they had no choice but to fight, that would explain the sudden shift in production and the high casualty rate. But that’s just a guess.”

It was the most logical conclusion. This was, after all, just a production facility—not a command center. There were likely many similar factories nearby, and it was possible that this one had simply swapped production lines with another.

However, the current state of the city suggested a large-scale conflict. The severe damage to the buildings, the uneven roads, and the massive craters all pointed to an intense battle.

Had this mechanical civilization been wiped out?

Something still didn’t sit right with Chen Lin. Civilizations don’t just vanish, leaving their cities intact. Robots weren’t susceptible to neutron sweeps, and the presence of a lingering psionic shield protecting this city made even less sense.

A battle definitely took place here. But it might not have been war that led to this civilization’s downfall—something else was at play.

“Mark these coordinates.” Chen Lin tapped a few locations listed in the corrupted data logs. “These entries reference specific locations. We’ll split up and check them out later.”

Lowering his voice, he added, “Stay alert. I have a bad feeling about this place. This civilization’s technological level might surpass ours in certain fields.”

Sensing the shift in Chen Lin’s tone, the others nodded seriously.

For safety, they decided not to call in the Psionic Guard for backup. This was something they would handle themselves.

The city was massive, but in any civilization, only the core locations held valuable information. For a machine society, all critical data should have been centralized somewhere.

Chen Lin’s goal was clear: uncover the identity of this lost civilization, determine how and why it ended up buried beneath Jarilo-VI, and—most importantly—find out who had left behind that mysterious psionic shield.

—

Jarilo Star System – Forward Outpost

A massive fleet of Xianzhou ships loomed near a monitoring station. Several colossal Starskiffs were docked nearby, while smaller vessels shuttled personnel and cargo between them.

Inside one of the smaller ships, a group of uniformed officers in deep blue attire moved about, engaged in what appeared to be procedural handovers.

A certain young woman with a relaxed demeanor stretched as she stepped out of a briefing room, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Whew! Good thing I’m smart—these regular Starskiffs can’t compare to Old Chen’s fleet! Instead of crawling through space, I might as well just park the ships and let them haul everything over for us. Much more convenient~”

Qingque strolled to the docking bay, overseeing the workers as well as the embassy staff she had brought along. She felt completely at ease.

This was the ideal job—getting paid without doing anything.

Even though Luofu’s embassy department was technically under the jurisdiction of the Divination Commission, Fu Xuan was still her boss.

But the thing was—Fu Xuan was far away.

As long as Qingque sent back a daily report, she could slack off as much as she wanted.

No rush, no stress~

Most importantly, she no longer had to worry about Fu Xuan catching her slacking off and dumping a mountain of paperwork on her desk.

Now that she was a diplomat, she actually outranked a lot of people. And better yet, she had no direct supervisor on-site.

Once they landed, Chen Lin would be looking out for her, which meant… total freedom!

Of course, she understood that her position technically came with serious responsibilities.

But that just meant other people saw it as a burden. She didn’t.

Qingque leaned against the window, propping her chin on her hand. “I wonder what Old Chen is up to right now… That Supreme Guardian lady seems super authoritative. Kinda hard to imagine a guy like Chen Lin willingly handing over power. Doesn’t really fit his style.”

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Ambassador, most of the requested equipment and cargo have been loaded. We should be ready to depart in five system hours.”

A psionic officer—one of Chen Lin’s Iron Guards assigned to escort her—stood at attention, awaiting further instructions.

“Need anything else?”

Qingque’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“How about a game of cards?”

“…Huh?” The officer blinked. “I… I’m on duty! I can’t gamble!”

“Relax, I was joking~” Qingque waved her hand dismissively. “Say, got any fun stories about your dear Governor? Back when he was in the Xianzhou, he never told me much. I’m dying to know how he ended up running Jarilo.”

The officer hesitated. “The Governor never gave us permission to—”

“Oh, come on! I’m the official Luofu ambassador! We’ll be working together all the time. This is just me doing my diplomatic duty—learning about your glorious leader’s achievements. That’s work, isn’t it?”

“…If my commander finds out, I’ll get in trouble…”

Qingque nodded understandingly—then grinned slyly.

“Tell you what—let’s step into my cabin, grab a drink, and talk gossip… Oh, I mean, work.”

---

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!