At $BTC in the afternoon, after finishing, I fell onto the bed like a scattered cultivator who had failed the tribulation,

letting my consciousness become hazy.

Time was like an hourglass from which someone had drawn away the spiritual energy,

a moment stretched into several hours.

When I woke up, it was already deep into the night.

I rubbed my stiff eyelids,

holding a crumpled piece of paper in my hand,

with a plop, I tossed it into the paper bin,

as if to bury the spiritual stones lost today along with it.

A faint ray of light seeped in through the curtains,

it fell on the edge of my bed, like the compassion of the Heavenly Dao.

I thought this was redemption,

it was a second chance for the cultivator.

But when I suddenly looked around,

I found that the light illuminated only

a scene of chaos.

Collapsed pages, scattered diagrams,

and a pile of stinky takeout boxes,

it resembled the tangible manifestation of a scattered cultivator's inner demons.

My heart tightened, time seemed to stretch,

every minute felt more torturous than an hour.

I could almost hear the dog traders sneering in the darkness.

——Ridiculous!

Cultivating immortality is going against the heavens!

Without chaos, how can there be transformation?

Without the torment of time, where is the enlightenment of breaking through?

I took a deep breath, the spiritual energy surged in my dantian,

the spiritual consciousness gathered, a thread of heavenly secrets broke through the haze.

Fellow Daoists!

This moment is the lowest point!

Join me in cutting through the inner demons,

let's fight back with everything! Go long on BTC,

let the dog traders see

what it truly means to be a cultivator against the heavens!