Chapter 368: The First Transaction
Snapping back to his senses, Jimmy quickly covered the Blue Angel, jumped down from the truck, and slammed the cargo doors shut.
His heart was racing.
Cold sweat soaked his back.
A shipment worth millions… and they had handed it to him—a newcomer who wasn't even sure he was officially "in" yet—to transport it?
Weren't they afraid something would go wrong?
Weren't they afraid he'd just take it all and disappear?
Or… was this a test?
A test of obedience?
Maybe they weren't worried at all—because if he tried anything, he wouldn't even make it out alive.
In an instant, Jimmy's thoughts spiraled.
The more he thought, the more terrified he became.
It felt like someone was watching him from the darkness—like invisible crosshairs would snap onto him the moment he made a wrong move.
Gulp.
He swallowed hard, hurried into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He drove exactly where the voice had instructed.
The destination was on the outskirts of the city—an abandoned factory, isolated and empty.
Jimmy forced himself out of the truck, his nerves still trembling, and walked over to a black sedan parked nearby.
No one inside.
The key was already in the ignition.
He got in, drove it back into the city, and returned to his motel.
Meanwhile, back at home, Walter tried to steady his breathing, calming his racing heart.
After a while, he picked up his phone, typed out a message, and sent it.
Ten minutes later, a car entered the abandoned factory.
Soon after, the car and the truck departed—one after the other.
Walter sat in his living room, holding a glass of liquor, absentmindedly sipping.
The TV was on, but he wasn't watching it.
His eyes kept drifting back to the phone on the table.
Buzz. Buzz.
The phone vibrated.
Walter's hand trembled slightly, a few drops of liquor spilling from his glass.
He grabbed the phone, read the message—
and let out a long breath.
The tension finally left his body.
"…Ugh—"
The moment he relaxed, he rushed to the bathroom, bent over the toilet, and vomited.
This was his first time handling a deal.
Even though he had never left the house—only directing everything through calls—no one could understand how intense the pressure had been.
But in the end…
It worked.
Everything went smoothly.
No mistakes.
The shipment in that truck had been produced by Walter himself over the past few days.
With the factory up and running and the underground lab fully operational, he had begun large-scale production.
A massive underground facility—spanning over a thousand square meters—equipped with professional-grade equipment.
Industrial reactors holding over a thousand liters of solvent.
Specialized machinery that couldn't simply be bought off the shelf—many of them acquired through Gretchen's connections, even custom-made.
Compared to the cramped RV lab with its makeshift glassware…
This was a completely different world.
The increase in output was staggering.
What once took a month of exhausting work in the RV… could now be produced in a single day.
In less than a week, Walter alone could produce over a hundred pounds of Blue Angel.
And that was just him.
If Pinkman recovered and returned as his assistant, production would increase even further.
As for this method of conducting transactions—
it wasn't Walter's idea.
It was Frank who had taught Walter this method before leaving—everything designed to preserve Heisenberg's mystery to the greatest extent.
Walter might be ambitious, but he was still inexperienced.
Putting him in charge behind the scenes was like forcing a duck onto a perch—it didn't quite fit yet. Frank worried he wouldn't be able to hold things together.
So he came up with this approach.
Why did people in the underworld speak of Heisenberg in such exaggerated, almost mythical terms? Why did it sound like some vast, hidden empire?
Because it was unknown.
They didn't understand it.
Rumors spread, growing more distorted with each retelling.
And people fear what they don't understand.
Fear comes from the unknown.
The simplest example is darkness.
Many people are afraid of the dark. Some even need the lights on to sleep.
Children are the clearest case.
Anyone with experience knows—when washing a child's hair, even if you repeatedly tell them to keep their eyes closed or the shampoo will sting, they still open them.
Why?
Because they're afraid of the darkness behind closed eyes.
That's the same reason kids are scared to sleep alone—imagining monsters under the bed or in the closet.
But it's not just children.
Adults are no different.
After watching a horror movie, even going to the bathroom can feel unsettling—like something might be lurking in the shadows.
Why do people fear ghosts?
Because they don't understand them.
They don't know what ghosts are, how they move, why they can pass through walls, why they look the way they do.
All fear stems from that lack of understanding.
But once something becomes understood—once you know its nature, its structure, even how to defeat it—the fear fades.
It becomes no more terrifying than facing a wild animal.
The same principle applies to movies.
Some horror films—like The Grudge or The Conjuring—rely on the unknown, something intangible and unstoppable.
But others, like classic zombie films, are different.
When you see a priest wielding crosses and swords to restrain zombies, sure—it can still startle you.
But it doesn't create the same deep, lingering fear.
In fact, you start looking forward to the moment the master steps in and takes control.
Games follow the same pattern.
Take two famous examples: Outlast and Resident Evil.
In Outlast, you're powerless. You can only run, hide, and endure fear. The asylum becomes a nightmare burned into players' memories.
But Resident Evil?
It starts as horror—but once you have a gun, everything changes.
The fear begins to fade.
It turns into something closer to a resource-management shooter.
Players even hesitate to use powerful ammunition—like Magnum rounds—saving them obsessively, sometimes finishing the entire game without firing a single shot.
Because once you understand the threat… and gain the means to fight it—
fear loses its power.
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