In no long time they were above the Mountain of Yellow Wind. Said the Bodhisattva, "Great Sage, this fiend has some fear of me. I shall keep my station here at the edge of the cloud.

住定, to hold one's station. Lingji says outright that the fiend is afraid of him — which is exactly the intelligence the Pilgrim spent a night as a mosquito to obtain, now confirmed from the other end.

Go down and challenge him, and draw him out; then I can put forth my power."

索戰, to demand battle. The plan is the ordinary plan of these chapters, and it works this time precisely because the Pilgrim is only the bait.

The Pilgrim did as he was bid. He brought his cloud down, and without a word of parley he swung out his iron rod and broke the door of the cave to pieces.

不容分說, "allowing no word of argument," with 分 read fēn — the identical idiom the fiend used against him at the cave mouth earlier. It has changed hands.

"Fiend," he cried, "give me back my master!" In a fright the imp who kept the gate ran in to report.

還我師父來: 還 is huán, "give back," not hái. 慌得 hangs its result on de.

Said the fiend, "This wretched ape is truly past all manners. He will not submit to reason, and now he has broken down my door.

著實無禮: 著 is the adverb zhuó, exactly as in the chapter's armour passage. 不伏善 is to refuse to submit to good sense. Note where the outrage is aimed — the fiend minds the broken door considerably more than the challenge.

This once I go out, I shall raise my spirit-wind, and I will have him blown dead." He put on his armour as before, snatched up his steel trident, and came out through the gate again.

綽 reads chāo, "to snatch up" — the same character and the same reading as in the chapter's opening passage, and the arming is described in the same words. The novel is closing a bracket it opened five thousand characters ago.

He saw the Pilgrim, and would not stop to talk, but whirled the trident and thrust at his breast; and the Great Sage slipped aside from it.

更不打話 takes 更 as gèng. 當胸就刺, with 當 read dāng — again word for word as in the first combat. Everything about this second fight is a deliberate repetition of the first.

He raised his rod and paid him back face to face; and they had not fought many bouts before the fiend turned his head away and looked toward the quarter of Xun, and was just about to open his mouth and call the wind —

Two readings of 還 within a few characters: 相還 is huán, "to pay back" a blow. In 戰不數合 the 數 is shù, and the 不 in front of it takes bú. Then the fiend turns to the trigram Xun, exactly as he did in the great wind passage — and the sentence stops dead on a dash.

when up in the middle air he saw the Bodhisattva Lingji cast the Flying-Dragon precious staff down. What spell he spoke over it nobody knew.

Both 將 in 丟將下來 are jiāng, the first setting up the thing thrown and the second marking its direction. 不知念了些甚麼咒語 — the narrator declines to know what the spell was, which is how this novel keeps its miracles miraculous.

But it was a golden dragon with eight claws, which spread two of them with a rush, snatched the fiend up in one grip, took him by the head, shook him two or three times,

撥喇的 is the noise of claws snapping open (喇 as lǎ, per the chapter 16 rule). 提著頭 takes 著 as zhe. 捽 reads zuó, to seize something and dash it down.

and dashed him down on the rock of the cliff-side; and there he took on his true form, and it was a marten with yellow fur.

現了本相: 相 is xiàng, "form" — the second reading of this character in the passage, against the xiāng of 相還 three segments earlier. And 黃毛貂鼠 is a yellow-furred marten, a small animal of the weasel kind. That is what the wind came out of.