When the blood-rust giant bell on the top of the mountain shattered, Ah Zhu realized that the "stable cocoon" that the tribe had sacrificed for generations was nothing more than a cage forged by the clockkeeper's flesh and blood. The rust-inducing fragment embedded in his chest is both the key to the prison and the coveted sacrifice - the "clockkeepers" in silver uniforms are waiting to throw all the "remnants" into the furnace to recast a new bell.
From the molten pool in the mangrove to the deep passage of the bell tomb, from the semi-mechanical suture body to the phantom of the bell master in the clouds, A Zhu carries the fusion mark of rust and reverse scale. In his escape and resistance, he gradually understands: the so-called "remnant" has never been a defective product of chaos, but a bell maker who has been deprived of his name.
When the patroller's sickle cuts through the sea level, when the roar of the domesticated body shatters the starry sky, and when the "cradle" in the depths of the universe reveals its outline in the nebula, A-Zhu finally understands that the meaning of breaking out of the cocoon is never to escape, but to allow every branded soul to shout out his name in the sun.
This is a rebellion that spans across the universe, with the soul of the bell as the bones and the remnant as the blood - we are the rust that survives the disaster, and we are also the hammer that cracks the eggshells.
