Putin's mouth crooked, Trump's eyelids droop, Europe collectively weakens.

That broken place in Alaska is freezing people's bones, and the two old men talked in a cat house for two and a half hours, coming out without a peep. Trump patted his chest and said the talks went 'extremely well,' then turned around to paint a big pie for Ukraine: 'Bro, don't worry, I'll get back to you.' But what is that 'critical point' that's so hard to grasp? His mouth is tighter than a safe!

Putin is even more ruthless, squinting his eyes and saying ominously: 'We two have agreed on some things that cannot be said.' He then turns to Europe and shouts: 'Everyone calm down, don't mess things up!' This is not a negotiation; it's clearly a knife point at Europe's waist! And then he throws a bombshell—next time, Moscow will continue to chat. Trump's grin made the spines of NATO countries chill.

What a mess, Putin's first visit to the U.S. in ten years, and Trump sends out fighter jet formations bombing the streets, calling off official talks on a whim, and ending up with just three against three in a closed-door operation. The old hands in the think tanks turned the table directly: 'What a load of crap! These two old foxes have colluded to keep things under wraps!' The Eastern European allies held an emergency meeting overnight: Arctic mining? Space competition? Is Trump treating our territory as chips in a gamble?

Inflation data is in conflict, and the White House directly changes the exam paper.

On Tuesday, the CPI data just made the market hype, and on Thursday, the PPI slapped back. On the surface, prices are rising slowly, but core inflation shot up to 3.1% like a firecracker—rent, medical expenses, and airfare are making the common folks curse. Even more outrageous is the PPI surging 0.9% month-on-month; the tariffs added by Trump are like gasoline poured on a fire, causing trade profits to rise sharply.

The Wall Street elites performed a face-changing act on the spot: in the morning, they bet on a 95% chance of a rate cut in September, and in the afternoon, the trader, with a cigar in his mouth, cursed and canceled orders. At this critical moment, Trump swings his axe at the data stronghold!

This tough guy nominated the conservative enforcer, Anthony, as the head of the Bureau of Labor Statistics. That guy claims louder than a fart, shouting 'monthly employment data is all fake,' wanting to change it to quarterly releases. It's clear to anyone: he just wants to add gloss to Trump's economic myth! The White House hypocritically clarified 'personal opinion,' only to be sold out by its own press secretary—Trump has long been unhappy with the data revisions and is pondering 'adjusting the statistical methods'!

Goodness, failing directly changes the score? This operation has Wall Street flipping the bird!

The Federal Reserve has turned into a battlefield, with Powell dancing on the tip of the knife.

Trump is casually crossing his legs, hinting: there are only three or four candidates left for the next Federal Reserve chairman. But Treasury Secretary Becerra blurted out: 'Stop talking nonsense! There are eleven on the list!' All of them are trusted aides of the knowledgeable king—BlackRock's Riddell, rebel Brad, and even Milan, who has been shouting for Federal Reserve reforms, are all on the list. This isn't about electing a chairman; it’s clearly about forming a rate-cutting death squad!

The knowledgeable king personally came down to tear into Powell, putting the label of 'Mr. Too Late' on the old man. Even more outrageous is the threat to sue him for 'building it poorly'—this excuse is so crude that even the street thugs would blush! The new confidants pushed into the Federal Reserve are even crazier, with Brad jumping up and down shouting there must be a rate cut in September, cutting 100 basis points in a year; the newly appointed director Milan, with eyes wide open, claimed tariffs don’t increase inflation, infuriating economists to the point of throwing their calculators!

Treasury Secretary Becerra is completely red-eyed, shouting to 'cut 50 basis points directly in September', and threatening that interest rates must smash through the floor. This old man is cursing while throwing smoke bombs: No selling gold! No dumping Bitcoin! Stirring up the market into chaos.

But the Federal Reserve's backyard has already blown up!
Atlanta Fed President Bostic, with a cigar, sneered: 'A rate cut once in 2025 is enough to save face!' Chicago Fed's Goolsbee, anxious, pulled his hair: 'This inflation mad dog is going to bite!' San Francisco Fed's Daly was even harsher, directly calling out: 'Cut by 50 basis points? Dream on! At most two small steps!'

Watching the September meeting turn into an octagonal cage, Powell, the old referee, grips the microphone with a shaking hand—
Next week's Jackson Hole conference, global gamblers perk up their ears waiting for the whistle. The White House has a knife to its neck, confidants sharpening their knives, colleagues flipping tables and cursing... If this old man backs down, the Federal Reserve's century-old reputation will be fed to the dogs on the spot!

Among the list of enforcers that the knowledgeable king has appointed, which gods are hiding that can make him stake the national fortune? Has that speech in Powell's pocket really not been tampered with by the White House's lackeys? #美联储取消创新活动监管计划

Review of key market levels:


●$BTC ：


○ Support Levels: 116,730 - 115,700 - 114,100


○ Resistance Levels: 117,870 - 119,200 - 121300


○ Key Level: 117,800 (4-hour level rebound point)


●$ETH ：
○ Support Levels: 4370 - 4320 - 4270


○ Resistance Levels: 4490 - 4558 - 4600


○ Key Level: 4428 (4-hour level breakout point)


●$SOL ：
○ Support Levels: 187 - 183 - 178


○ Resistance Levels: 195 - 198 - 202


○ Key Level: 190 (short-term direction point)