On the bank, the wind whipped inky spray against the rocks.
The water looked thick, and even its slapping against the shore sounded dull and heavy, like sodden cotton hurled hard against stone.
Bajie stepped back twice, fanned a hand before his face, and sniffed with his little eyes narrowed, looking puzzled.
"This water looks strange, but it doesn't smell spoiled. If anything, there's a sort of... smell I can't quite place. Not a fishy smell, either. Something raw and astringent."
He turned toward Wukong, who was carefully examining the black mud on his staff.
"Brother Monkey, have you figured anything out?"
Wukong shook his head.
He brought the black sludge on the Golden Cudgel to his nose and took a deep breath, then rubbed it between his fingertips. The mud felt slick and greasy, but once spread out, it revealed tiny shreds of plant fiber.
"This stuff is black and looks frightening, but Old Sun hasn't sensed any demonic aura. That smell seems more like plants left soaking in water until they rotted."
"Plants soaking in water?"
Little White Dragon leaned closer, staring at the vast expanse of black water in bewilderment.
"Senior Brother, how much vegetation would it take to dye a whole river this size such an inky color? And this isn't stagnant water, either."
Wukong smiled, raised his head, and stood, dusting off his hands.
He pointed upstream along the Blackwater River.
"Little White, don't forget the six hundred li of Hao Mountain we just crossed. It's full of deep mountain forests and countless ancient trees reaching into the sky. Centuries of fallen leaves and broken branches flowed down the mountain streams and gathered in this low-lying stretch, steeping until they produced an entire river of black water."
"Still, for a great river to turn as