Bitcoin, that mercurial sultan of speculation, slid 21% from its gilded throne, leaving retail traders clutching their pearls (and margin calls). But Teng, ever the poet of pragmatism, mused in Sydney:
“Every asset class bears the scars of cycles. Why should crypto, that restless child, be spared?”
At $84,997, BTC clings to its dignity, a shadow of October’s $126,198 pinnacle. The culprits? Inflation’s fever, jobs’ frail pulse, and the Fed’s icy silence 🧊-a trifecta of dread for risk assets. Yet Teng shrugged: “When the world sneezes, crypto catches pneumonia. But is this news? Or merely the echo of every market’s lament?”
A Phoenix Rises, Briefly
Yet here we stand, a year wiser and a hundredfold richer. Institutions, once skeptics, now court crypto with BlackRock’s ardent advances 🖤💎. “Corrections?” Teng chuckled. “They’re the pruning shears of progress. Let the weak hands tremble; the strong will sow.”
“The sector has bloomed like a desert rose-exuberant, defiant. Now, some roots retreat. Is this death? Or merely the earth’s quiet breath before spring?”
And what of Changpeng Zhao, the fallen titan pardoned by Trump’s quill? Teng’s lips remained sealed, leaving the million-dollar question hanging like a fruit too bitter to taste 🍎.
