Eight years in the crypto world, I became a mute and a blacklist collector.

In the winter of 2019, I messaged my cousin, sending her three pages of PDF, highlighted in red:

If ETH is below $120, buy with your eyes closed.

He turned around and bought Dogecoin, reasoning: "It's cheap, what if?"

Three months later, Dogecoin basically went to zero, he cried to my mom saying:

Sister didn’t stop me.

I became the family sinner, no one passed the chopsticks during the New Year’s dinner.

In April 2021, a former colleague shared her maternity leave salary, privately asking me:

Is there a guaranteed 20% return?

I sent her a grayscale trust discount chart, accompanied by an 8,000-word due diligence report.

She replied: "Too long."

Two hours later, he went all in on SHIB, with 5x leverage.

The next day SHIB spiked, her maternity leave turned into "maternity leave +1", and her husband scolded her: "You were led astray by your colleagues."

She didn’t block me; I blocked her first—afraid that seeing the words "Are you there?" would give me a heart attack.

The most painful was the apprentice I taught step by step.

Last June, his wallet only had 1800U left; I said:

Treat this as an urn, only allowed to open 1% of the account.

He did as told, rolling it to 7200U in 32 days.

At 3 AM on the 33rd day, he sent a voice message:

Master, I understand, I want to build my own community.

I didn’t reply.

On the 35th day, he went all in on LUNA 2.0, and after the liquidation, he asked me if he could borrow capital.

The moment I blocked him, my finger shook more than when placing an order.

I didn’t delete one person; I deleted the version of myself from two years ago who believed that "teaching" was a kindness.

In the bear market, I learned to swallow my tongue.

Some people shared their gains of 300%, I liked their posts.

Some lost 90%, I lit a candle for them.

In the square, someone asked about the entry point, I uniformly replied:

I only understand fortune-telling, ten bucks a session.

They scolded me for pretending to be a god, I just smiled—pretending to be a god is cheaper than taking the blame.

Now my daily routine only consists of a set of keyboard shortcuts:

Ctrl + S: Save trading logs.

It doesn’t matter if the principal is 20,000 or 2 million, the system is the money printer:

If I make a 10% profit, withdraw immediately, convert it to cash to buy rice and cooking oil.

If I have a 3% loss, the system shuts down automatically; a black screen is more awakening than any motivational speech.

The crypto graveyard is open 24 hours; if you want to survive, first lock yourself up:

Lock your ears from "insider information"

Lock your eyes from "financial freedom screenshots"

Lock your fingers from "adding more"

Only what’s left is a living person.

Nice to meet everyone, but I focus on ambushing Ethereum and Bitcoin contracts, the team still has spots and speed to get in, leading you to become the market maker and also the winner.