The river churned along both sides of the ship, breaking into broad swathes of white foam.
One hundred thousand taels’ worth of imperial tribute silk was loaded in the lower hold.
If anything happened to this cargo, the entire Qinglong Branch would be buried with it.
Lu Chen stood at the bow of the flagship, his blue martial uniform snapping in the river wind.
This was his third day as the new helmsman of the Qinglong Branch.
The hundred-mile canal route wound through treacherous terrain.
Ahead, the water had noticeably darkened, turning a murky, inky green.
Blackwater Bay was just ahead.
Lu Chen raised his right hand, feeling the change in the wind.
The wind came from the southeast, at force three.
There were twenty percent more whirlpools on the surface than usual.
The underwater currents were changing course.
A hidden patch of jagged reefs lay to the left.
To the right was a shoal formed by accumulated silt.
