That night, when the last line of numbers disappeared from the screen, six hundred fifty thousand quietly evaporated. I did not cry, nor did I collapse.

I knew I could either quit the game or completely change the rules.

There was still five thousand left in the account; this was not my betting capital, but my last bullet.

Either I would fire precisely, or leave silently.

Others said this was gambling, but I did not argue.

But those who have crawled back from the abyss understand:

There is no mysticism in the trading arena, only the naked confrontation of strategy and mentality.

Week One: Focus on 'Gap Filling'

When ETH experiences sharp declines and rises, there is often a brief technical rebound.

I placed a 5x long order at the 38.2% retracement level, with a strict stop loss controlled at 1.5%, and took profit at 4% before immediately exiting.

No obsession with battles, no staying up late, no more than one trade per day.

Five thousand → Eight thousand three.

Slow but steady. Like using the finest needle to pierce the hardest wall.

Week Two: Capture 'Information Vacuum'

Before and after major events, the market often has a ten-minute cognitive lag.

I only placed orders for mainstream coins in advance, neither chasing the tops nor betting on the tails, only taking the most stable profits in the middle.

Each position no more than 15%, and I would withdraw after making 3%.

Eight thousand three → Sixteen thousand.

Like walking a high-altitude cableway, calmness is far more important than impulsiveness.

The most decisive step: Profit Isolation.

That night when my funds exceeded twenty thousand, I made a decision that those around me did not understand:

Withdraw 50%, transfer it to a bank card that never connects to the internet, uninstall all market software, and exit all discussion groups.

Some said, 'You are cutting off your own escape route!'

But I knew: Many people lose not because they can't see the direction, but because they can't help but fantasize—'Just hold on a bit longer, and I can turn it around.'

From then on, for every ten thousand earned, I would withdraw seven thousand.

The account would always keep fifteen thousand for continued operations.

Four months later, I checked the balance of that bank card:

Fifty-eight thousand.

At that moment, I truly understood:

What allows you to stand up again is not some miraculous operation, but the discipline to exit during revelry and to hold firm when no one applauds.

Later, someone asked me, 'Was losing that six hundred fifty thousand worth it?'

I replied:

'True failure is not losing money, but refusing to change. I would rather feel that pain than live my whole life in illusion.'

Once, I too was lost in the dark; now I light my own lamp.

The light has always been on.

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