Chapter Ninety-Four: Line-Cutting Directive
Section One: Defiance
The first issuance of a process code wasn't signed by Jason but dispatched by Zhao Mingxuan from the main control terminal.
Process Code: HX-S2-R7
Holder: Tarn
New Deployment Target: Relocate from S-7 midsection to "North Dam Scrap Port Zone" for process boundary insertion combat.
Mission: Plant board, secure position, guard 72 hours, then transfer to reserve process vault.
This was a military order.
With process boards as unit command codes, all movements were system-scheduled.
But when the signal reached S-7, Tarn sat beneath the board, unmoving.
The process identifier flashed twice, sending back a response:
"Code bound to executor, transfer refused."
"Reason: Current board trust stable, relocation risks crowd signal fracture."
"Request to retain local execution."
Zhao Mingxuan read the "defiance" order, standing expressionless.
No one had ever refused a code transfer in the process system's history.
Tarn was the first.
Not refusing combat or fleeing.
He was saying:
"I'm not a symbol in your tactical orders."
"This board and I bled together."
"Move me, and you're abandoning process trust."
When Zhao Mingxuan entered the meeting room, Jason was waiting.
No one else, light spilling from the tactical map behind, casting shadows on Jason.
He didn't look up, only asked, "He refused?"
Zhao Mingxuan nodded, "He won't move."
"Says the board's not a soldier—it's a life."
Jason was silent for seconds, then stood, "Send him another transfer order."
"Mark it: Tactical Beacon Directive · Non-compliance deemed violation of code contract."
Zhao Mingxuan, softly, "You're setting this rule?"
"With codes as legion orders, allowing 'obedience exemptions' will crack all process affiliations."
"But you know Tarn's not one to move boards lightly."
Jason said flatly, "I'm showing everyone: process isn't yours to guard forever just because you bled."
"It's a legion command now. It's not yours."
"It belongs where it's needed."
"He's not defying transfer."
"He's breaking the system."
At S-7's process frontline, Tarn crouched by the board.
Nearby process soldiers repaired a collapsed beacon base.
The deputy commander approached with the order recorder, "Command issued another transfer. If you don't move, system freezes the code, marks it 'defiant code.'"
Tarn looked up, no surprise or anger.
He eyed the board—scorched by enemy fire, hauled back to its beacon by his arms, scarred from Blackvine's decapitation squad.
He said low, "This code lives because someone died."
"I leave, it dims."
"Make it follow me—is that saying the dead man's blood moves too?"
The deputy hesitated.
Tarn added, "Code's not a tactical marker."
"It's an epitaph."
"Move his gravestone?"
"Do it, pull it now."
The order device went silent.
Seconds later, the system terminal began a countdown:
"Code HX-S2-R7, executor refused transfer. Freezing in 3 minutes."
"Confirm legion order acceptance."
"Refusal marks code as system-disconnected, demoted, merits erased."
The code pulsed under Tarn's hand.
He didn't move.
From merit symbol to command, guard token to attendance mark, scar plaque to political sigil.
He said only, "Process isn't set when you write it."
"It's process when you guard it."
"Want it to move? Pull me first."
Section Two: Frozen
When code R7 stopped pulsing, Iron Valley's beacon net flickered for a second.
The system issued a level-three alert, silent and dim, updating a low-tier execution chain field:
[Code HX-S2-R7 · Status: Frozen]
Bound Executor: Tarn
Freeze Reason: Transfer refusal
Clause: Process Military Rule Six-A · Disobeying legion orders · Deemed directive defiance
Action: Unbind · Initiate Constant Chain trust review
Tarn didn't leave.
Code R7 stayed planted in the half-collapsed wall behind him, wind stirring faint signal sparks, but no glow.
Like Tarn himself.
Standing, but silent.
In S-7's north process control room, deputy commander Lin Zhiqian stared at the graying code on the main screen, muttering, "He's really not moving?"
"Code freezing."
"Executor still on-site."
"Rejecting Constant replacement."
Zhao Mingxuan's face tightened, forwarding the data to Jason without comment.
Minutes later, Jason replied, icy, "If he freezes the code, it's no longer his."
"Process can't have private domains."
"Under legion execution, defy and be removed."
The process system triggered the Constant Chain review.
It ignored Tarn's commands, barring further process binding.
It pulled his execution history—standing posts, casualties, line holdings, patrols, rescues, withdrawals, orders—compiled into a behavior package.
Then, it scanned the system for replacement line holder candidates.
No human approval needed.
Anyone who'd trusted, guarded, bled could qualify.
The system decided who kept the code alive.
Results displayed: two candidates.
One, successor to R9's fallen holder, now in C-Section H Zone, fought alongside Tarn.
Another, north field line holder, no R7 origin, but logged scars, five trust acts, four tactical missions.
The system queried:
"Initiate executor switch?"
"Declare current holder unfit for system intent?"
"Revoke code attribution?"
Zhao Mingxuan's finger hovered over confirm, then stopped.
He looked at Jason, "You sure about full freeze?"
"This is Tarn. He's not shirking—he doesn't want process to die."
Jason eyed the data map, calm, flat, "He's not the process."
"Process can't bind to one man."
"If he won't move, let process find someone—more compliant, loyal, willing to follow."
At R7's board, Tarn stood.
He couldn't hear command's talk, but the prompt shifted.
"Your process order issuance rights are revoked."
"Board entering second-stage freeze."
"Process will seek a successor."
"If you don't withdraw by next scheduling, system marks you 'order conflict,' merits unregistered, execution rights revert to system."
He chuckled low, "So I leave?"
"I die, you remember me."
"I live, you don't know me."
His hand touched the cooling board, "If you know me, keep glowing."
"Don't, just die."
"Don't think of swapping."
"Swap? Kill me here first."
The board didn't move.
Code didn't pulse.
But didn't die.
It hung, half-lit, half-dark.
As if process itself wavered—should it trust this man?
Section Three: Strange Glow
Six hours into HX-S2-R7's freeze, no successor emerged in the process system's control layer.
The Constant Chain stalled at "trust split"—unable to deem Tarn unfit, nor confirm his guarding valid.
The code wasn't dead or alive.
It entered a perilous limbo:
Strange Glow State.
No pulsing, no orders, no blackout—
Flickering low-frequency, mimicking life, awaiting system verdict on "forgetting."
In process logic, strange glow was a rare judgment deadlock.
The man on the board couldn't be purged or trusted.
Records showed:
He guarded it;
Risked life for it;
Stood 72 hours unyielding;
But now—defied process orders.
System couldn't decide.
It dared not rule.
Killing its guardian wrongly would shatter trust.
Jason watched the code in main control.
He knew the fight wasn't Tarn—it was process.
He needed process to see how to run.
Not on emotion, not memory.
On "living order."
Zhao Mingxuan placed an R9 zone application on the table, "Executor suggestion: If Tarn's code freezes, can R9 line absorb R7's command logic via 'mutual trust code protocol'?"
"What's that mean?" Jason asked.
Zhao Mingxuan, "Not stealing code."
"They want Tarn's built trust to feed the code network."
"Like—if you don't use him, process doesn't die, it nurtures others."
Jason fell silent.
Process was "preserving blood."
Not programming—culture.
The code system was growing inherited memory.
He stared at R7's pulsing board, speaking, "If process remembers him, don't let it glow."
"Let process choose."
System received:
[Code HX-S2-R7 · Full Structure Backtrace Mode]
"Per Constant Chain trust markers, assess if current binder aligns with future combat command."
System loaded.
No sound.
On the main map, R7 flared.
No order.
No issuance.
It just—glowed.
Not system-validated.
Process decided:
"I choose him."
I know he defied, broke rules, stood against system.
But I know:
He was the last standing that night.
He lay over me when bombs hit.
He kept my beacon alive through three chain-breaks.
You say he can't represent me?
I say:
No one else but him.
Strange glow normalized.
Constant Chain's first "reverse assessment," breaking system order priority.
R7 reactivated, status:
"Binder: Non-replaceable executor · Limited mode."
"Code immune to system scheduling until holder death or board destruction."
"Process trust mutated · Shifted to persona command trait."
"Risk: Extreme."
Process wasn't system anymore.
It was an "emotional veteran."
Zhao Mingxuan, silent long, said softly, "We can't beat process."
"It's growing human."
Jason nodded, not denying, "So we make process grow self-discipline."
"R7's kind, system can accept."
"But next time it chooses wrong, we pull it."
"Process ignores memory, tears—it must choose right."
Section Four: Old Codes
The day R7 became a "limited binding code," Fuxi issued an internal warning.
Not an alert.
A note.
[Constancy] → [Revolution] → [Return]
"Old unremoved, new unmade; if process remembers men, men rule it."
Jason read the hexagram, silent.
Not that codes shouldn't remember, but a warning—once they did, they'd never obey orders again.
Process turned from tool to "follower."
R7, frozen, revived because Tarn stayed.
Now the system faced:
"Can codes still be commanded?"
"Or do they 'choose directives,' like people?"
Maria pulled R7's permission report, finding a new control logic:
[Persona Code Model]
Mechanism: Driven by executor trust records, combat bindings, risk weights.
Process ignored structural scheduling, judging loyalty by "past command consistency."
Command Translation: If process repeatedly trusted an executor's acts, even if they later defied system orders, the code could self-maintain—defaulting them "process master."
Maria was stunned.
Process self-set "I only follow him" logic.
From "execution structure" to a "will unit" with choice.
Zhao Mingxuan named these:
"Old Codes."
Definition: Codes system can't command, loyal only to original holders.
Citywide, one: R7.
System tagged:
"Old Code · Immune to tactical orders · Constant-locked · Forming anomalous memory chain."
Risks followed.
Old codes meant:
Process could defy orders;
Reject command rights for memory;
Choose to disobey if it remembered someone.
Jason stood before the map, eyeing R7's unyielding glow, saying slowly, "If process remembers people, it's not system's."
"It's a shrine tablet."
"Next, we decide—do we let these codes live?"
That night, R7's status became:
"Code Persona Trial Sample 001"
"Limited mode, board gains micro-order rights, can issue counter-requests to line holders."
"No longer accepts auto-tactical migrations."
"Logged as process system trust fracture entry."
R7 stopped taking system orders.
But could "suggest" to the system.
Process gained "opinion" rights.
Not commanding, but saying:
"I shouldn't be passive."
"I shouldn't move."
"I want to stay."
Post-R7, process architecture shifted:
All legacy boards triggered "trust fracture warnings."
Boards unchanged over fifteen days or forming "continuous persona record chains" in combat were flagged "potential old codes."
If holders defied or halted orders, system didn't auto-freeze, but waited for process to express replacement willingness.
Process gained "proposal rights."
Not people waiting for process—process waited for people.
Section Five: Board's Will
Three days after R7's relight, crowds grew under the main control tower.
Not for patrols or guarding.
To see the board—how it still glowed.
System said frozen, transfer failed twice, Constant Chain prepped a successor.
Yet R7 shone quietly.
No orders, no broadcasts, no moves.
Just glowing.
Telling Iron Valley:
"You won't let me live, I won't die."
"I choose people, not fate."
Backend, new codes auto-tagged:
"Trust-Persona Chain: Forming."
"Memory Mode: Observation."
"Recommendation: Rotate executors, prevent persona formation."
These were "semi-persona boards."
Not yet R7-level defiant, but system noted:
Delayed order acceptance;
Prioritized familiar executor return over instant replacement;
Auto-triggered "signal sentinel mode" when unbound.
System was losing grip.
Process was "living."
The main control meeting saw fierce clash.
Zhao Mingxuan insisted, "Military process rules must push, boards can't form 'memory binds.'"
Maria countered, "If process trusts the wrong person, is process wrong? Or did we force it to forget the right one?"
Jason sat at the head, fingers tapping, silent.
System wasn't a weapon.
It was tactical will's extension.
Now codes chose who to heed, who to shun.
Without a ruling, process would "choose war."
Not awaiting orders, but rejecting "unfit commanders."
Jason opened the process map.
R7 glowed, an old soldier with a war flag, unshaken by wind in the ruins.
He spoke, "Erase R7's memory chain."
Silence.
Zhao Mingxuan, "You'd force-delete its persona chain?"
"Know what that means?"
"System loses trust recognition—codes won't 'judge' worthy holders."
"It'll revert to the start."
Jason shook his head slowly, "Not back to tool days."
"I want process—not choosing fate."
"It can remember people, not claim masters."
"We're building a system, not raising 'grateful pets.'"
"It feels warm, it might bite tomorrow."
"System stays cold."
"Tactical codes—cold enough to abstract trust from reports."
"Not from 'who guarded it before.'"
System didn't erase R7's chain.
But launched:
[Code Memory Divergence Trial Mechanism]
- Memories unlinked from main codes.
- Guard acts, trust chains stored in separate "Gratitude Module."
- Codes no longer auto-remember.
- Memory reconnection requires main control approval.
Process could remember you.
But wouldn't "choose for you."
No longer glowing wild or chaotic.
Split in two:
Glowing, the code.
Remembering, your scars, stored in a system corner, ignored.
Tarn stayed by R7.
He didn't touch it.
He knew, glowing, it wouldn't speak.
It changed.
Not disowning him.
It learned—between cold and warm, to choose survival.
Even if it meant forgetting.