Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [210]

The strength of power often carries the mark of causality.

Whether through training, fortune, or innate talent, none escape the chain of cause and effect.

But as Jingliu observed the changes in the surrounding air, she sensed a force disconnected from causality—a power foreign to the Xianzhou and entirely focused on subduing her. She couldn’t afford to be taken away.

In such situations, the outcome would depend solely on their respective skills.

One truth remained: losers have no voice.

“Very well. It has been long since I last concerned myself with the Xianzhou. Trouble following me here seems only natural. I know not the state of this land now, but when the clash of blades concludes, the victor will have their questions answered.”

With that, Jingliu moved forward, her steps slow and deliberate. Yet as she advanced, the dry twigs beneath her feet trembled, as though an unseen force had given her a push. Her figure blurred, and in an instant, she vanished!

Only the overwhelming presence of sword energy remained. It gathered into a frosty blue arc that streaked toward Chen Lin at blinding speed, aiming directly for his throat. The sharpness of the attack pierced the air with a sound like thunderclaps.

Sword energy... For the first time on the Xianzhou, Chen Lin witnessed something that matched his imagined fantasies—something straight out of the novels and shows of his old life. A land with swordsmen everywhere… Of course, it’d have this sort of thing.

Accustomed to Fu Xuan’s sudden and intricate sorcery, Chen Lin found the straightforwardness of this attack almost refreshing.

Dodging it was effortless. He didn’t even need to summon his psionic energy—his body reacted instinctively, leaning to the side as the frost-blue streak shot past him.

He hadn’t anticipated, however, that the first strike was merely a feint. Two more arcs followed immediately, sealing his potential escape routes.

But it was futile.

The Zroni Nexus classified all three sword arcs as energy-based weapons. Without Chen Lin needing to lift a finger, several energy vortices opened before him, swallowing the incoming attacks in their entirety.

The air pulsed with the remnants of displaced energy, but Chen Lin remained unharmed.

From above, Jingliu launched a downward strike. Yet, with a simple tilt of his body and a precise application of psionic force, Chen Lin redirected her blade mid-swing, forcing it to miss its mark.

“Hmm?”

Her assault thwarted, Jingliu leapt back, sword raised defensively, a trace of surprise escaping her lips.

In the blink of an eye, she returned to her previous position, maintaining a cautious distance from Chen Lin.

As the light of dawn bathed the scene, the surrounding chill began to dissipate. Only the space immediately around them—where Chen Lin had manipulated the air into vacuum pockets—remained eerily still. Dust swirled lazily in the unnatural calm.

Jingliu tilted her head slightly, inspecting her shoulder. A faint scratch marred her armor—a seemingly trivial injury, but one that spoke volumes to her.

She had used sword energy to obscure her movements, approaching Chen Lin from an angle outside his field of vision. Yet somehow, he had not only blocked her strike but retaliated with precision.

Raising her head, she replayed the moment in her mind. It wasn’t until Chen Lin’s counterattack reached the boundary of the vacuum and disrupted the air that she even realized his blade was upon her. He had exploited her reliance on hearing—a flaw in her otherwise impeccable perception.

This man… If there were a ranking for ambushers in the universe, he’d be at the top.

Quick to assess the situation, identify her weaknesses, and execute a counterstrike—his ability to adapt was exceptional.

“This sword of yours… Its shape is nearly identical to mine, but its quality is far inferior,” Jingliu remarked, exhaling a slow breath. Her grip on her weapon shifted, her stance becoming more deliberate. “Your strikes are inconsistent, your movements noisy, and your intent scattered. It’s clear you lack training. So why engage me on my terms?”

Chen Lin clicked his tongue, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Because I felt like it. Why do you care?”

It’s not just that I lack training—I’ve never even learned how to use a sword, he thought. His every swing was improvised.

As for why Jingliu thought their swords looked alike, it was simple: Chen Lin had shaped his weapon out of psionic energy, mimicking hers on the spot. If he had the skill to make it indestructible, he’d start a business selling weapons. Why fight when you can run a weapons factory?

The air grew still as Jingliu tilted her head slightly upward. She said nothing, simply stepping toward Chen Lin with measured intent.

Her earlier exchange had revealed much—his peculiar ability rendered her sword energy ineffective, and while the exact mechanism eluded her, she had gleaned enough to understand one truth:

The only way to test this further was in the heat of combat.

With a sharp thud, her foot twisted and struck the ground, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the thick stone tiles. Her body shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bowstring.

Chen Lin, for all his strengths, had never been much of a fighter. Most of his experience consisted of standing behind others, providing support or exploiting openings. His encounters with direct combat were rare enough to count on one hand.

So when Jingliu’s sudden approach forced him into a flurry of defensive maneuvers, he was immediately overwhelmed. Yet, while his body struggled to keep up, his mind stayed remarkably clear, analyzing every move like a detached observer.

This was no ordinary opponent—Jingliu was by far the most formidable foe he’d encountered. Her mastery over her sword had reached the point where it transcended mere technique, becoming an extension of herself. Every strike, every angle, every ounce of force was perfectly calculated.

Within minutes, Chen Lin found himself drenched in sweat.

His psionically-forged blades, while not the best, weren’t poorly made either. Enhanced by his energy manipulation, they were of decent quality—good enough to hold up under most circumstances. Yet Jingliu cleaved through them with ease, her strikes so precise that even his attempts at reinforcement couldn’t match her sheer expertise.

Still, giving up wasn’t an option. If I can’t fight, I’ll learn to fight, he thought grimly.

Jingliu’s icy energy continued to radiate, but Chen Lin’s manipulations counteracted it with clever shifts in gravity and the creation of vacuum pockets. The temperature around her dropped drastically, but the frost refused to solidify, leaving her signature ice constructs incomplete.

Each time Jingliu shattered his blade, Chen Lin summoned another. The process grew smoother with each attempt as his understanding deepened.

Gradually, faint indicators appeared in his vision—small, translucent frames displaying floating swords and snippets of text:

[Psionic Mimicry: This leader’s precise control of psionic energy allows them to replicate observed objects, with the option to enhance their functionality. (Effect while serving as a minister or fleet commander: -1% weapon production cost, +1% weapon damage, -1% army costs)]

[Weapon Manipulation: This leader has mastered the Xianzhou art of weapon manipulation, capable of controlling up to two weapons simultaneously, provided their combined weight does not exceed ‘463kg.’ Continued practice may yield unexpected results. (Effect while serving as a general: +1% army morale)]

The perk from that “Psionic Rootedness” trait I got in the Zroni Nexus? Chen Lin thought. It finally activated.

He noted the gradual increase in his ability to manipulate weight, while the number of controlled weapons rose even faster.

Initially, it took him six or seven seconds to forge a single sword. But as time passed, the process sped up dramatically.

By the time Chen Lin reached 11 swords, the associated bonus to army morale had increased to 2%. He realized that for every additional sword he could control, the bonus increased by 0.1%.

With growing excitement, Chen Lin pushed himself further.

11 blades aren’t enough? Then let’s try for 12. 12 isn’t enough? Keep going—13, 14…

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as they clashed again and again. The dock was in utter disarray. Railings lay shattered, cargo containers were sliced into countless fragments, and the once-solid stone tiles beneath their feet were carved with endless sword marks.

By now, the air above the port teemed with flying blades. They moved with an eerie synchronicity, as though each one were alive and perfectly in tune with the others.

This time, it was Jingliu’s turn to sweat—not from exertion, but from disbelief.

The young man before her, whom she had thought little more than a novice, was adapting at an inhuman rate. She had never seen anything like it.

At first, his attacks were chaotic and clumsy. The swords often collided with one another mid-flight, creating a cacophony of clattering metal. Jingliu barely had to lift a finger—most of the damage was self-inflicted.

But as they continued to trade blows, the collisions grew less frequent. Soon, they stopped entirely. The movements of the swords became fluid, their attacks coordinated.

It was as if an army of elite, battle-hardened swordsmen had materialized, each with decades of experience in perfectly synchronized teamwork.

Jingliu could no longer keep her astonishment hidden. With a graceful twist, she intercepted a complex formation of blades, breaking through their ranks to deflect several incoming strikes. Yet even as she neutralized one attack, another followed—more precise and relentless than the last.

He’s learning in real-time, she realized. Every flaw I exploit, he fixes. Every gap in his defense, he closes. Is he even human?

Chen Lin, lost in his focus, paid little attention to her reactions. He was wholly absorbed in refining his newfound abilities.

Jingliu, on the other hand, found herself contemplating a different question: Should I be fighting this person at all?

With a flick of her wrist, she shattered the nearest swords, clearing the battlefield temporarily. Her keen hearing picked up on Chen Lin’s steady breathing—it seemed he wasn’t nearly as fatigued as she’d hoped.

“You’re using me as a training partner to learn swordsmanship,” Jingliu said, her expression a mix of incredulity and amusement. “Your strikes lack the precision to wound me. Likewise, I have means to deal with you, but this situation does not warrant such extremes. So, let us talk instead. Ask your questions or make your terms—I will answer if I can. In exchange, I ask the same of you.”

Her proposition was logical. Prolonging this fight served neither of them. Chen Lin was clearly trying to hone a new skill, while Jingliu had only wanted to test the self-proclaimed “Cloud Knight.”

Neither of them had a personal grudge against the other.

Chen Lin’s blades hovered silently in the air, ready to strike but unmoving. He knew she wasn’t interested in continuing the fight, but the temptation to keep practicing gnawed at him.

Breaking the silence, he replied with a smirk, “You know, I was hoping you’d ask me: ‘Friend or foe, which will you choose?’”

Jingliu arched a brow. “And your answer?”

“I’ll start with ‘foe.’ We’ll see about ‘friend’ later.”

He doesn’t even try to hide it—he’s using me to grind skills, Jingliu thought, exasperated but impressed.

Chen Lin’s logic was simple: if his trait improved faster against strong opponents, it would be a waste not to take full advantage of her.

Jingliu sighed, then let a faint smile play on her lips. “Very well. Let’s continue. But don’t expect me to hold back if you get careless.”

“Deal,” Chen Lin said, his smirk widening.

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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!