三番見逐 Cast Out a Third Time
行者道：「師父錯怪了我也。這廝分明是個妖魔，他實有心害你。我倒打死他，替你除了害，你卻不認得，反信了那獃子讒言冷語，屢次逐我。常言道：『事不過三。』我若不去，真是個下流無恥之徒。我去，我去。去便去了，只是你手下無人。」唐僧發怒道：「這潑猴越發無禮。看起來，只你是人，那悟能、悟淨就不是人？」行者道：「师父错怪了我也。这厮分明是个妖魔，他实有心害你。我倒打死他，替你除了害，你却不认得，反信了那呆子谗言冷语，屡次逐我。常言道：『事不过三。』我若不去，真是个下流无耻之徒。我去，我去。去便去了，只是你手下无人。」唐僧发怒道：「这泼猴越发无礼。看起来，只你是人，那悟能、悟净就不是人？」
逐句解 Line by line
Said Pilgrim, "Master, you have wrongly blamed me.
錯怪了我 (cuò guài le wǒ) "wrongly blamed me," 行 (xíng). Wukong's protest is direct and wounded — not a plea for pardon now but an assertion of injustice done.
"This creature was plainly a demon, truly bent on harming you.
這廝 (zhè sī) "this creature" (contemptuous). 分明是個妖魔 (fēn míng shì ge yāo mó) "plainly a demon," 分 (fēn). 實有心害你 "truly meant to harm you." Wukong states the bare truth one last time — she was a demon, she meant murder — the case the elder will not hear.
"I struck her dead, on the contrary, to rid you of the harm — yet you don't recognize it, but believe instead that idiot's slanderous, cold words, and drive me off time after time.
我倒打死他 (wǒ dào dǎ sǐ tā) "I, on the contrary, struck her dead," 倒 (dào) the adverb. 不認得 (bù rèn de) "do not recognize [it]," 得 (de). 那獃子 (nà dāi zi) "that idiot," 那 (nà), 子 (zi); 讒言冷語 (chán yán lěng yǔ) "slanderous, cutting words." Wukong names the injustice exactly: he killed to protect, and is repaid with expulsion on a slanderer's word.
"As the saying goes, 'Things should not pass three times.'
事不過三 (shì bú guò sān) "a matter should not exceed three [times]" — a proverb of finality: what happens thrice is enough. Having been dismissed twice and now a third time, Wukong invokes the saying to mark that a limit has been reached.
"If I did not go now, I'd truly be a base and shameless wretch.
下流無恥之徒 (xià liú wú chǐ zhī tú) "a low and shameless sort." Wukong's pride reasserts itself: to cling on after a third dismissal would demean him. The proverb and this line together turn his going from expulsion into a matter of his own honour.
"I'll go, I'll go.
我去，我去 (wǒ qù, wǒ qù) "I'll go, I'll go." The doubled assent — resigned, proud, wounded — marks the turning-point: after two reprieves, Wukong at last accepts the parting.
"Go I will — only, once I'm gone, you'll have no one at your command."
你手下無人 (nǐ shǒu xià wú rén) "you'll have no one under your hand." Even in leaving, Wukong's parting thought is protective — a warning that without him the master is undefended, which the wider novel will bear out.
The Tang Monk flew into a rage: "This brazen ape grows ever more insolent!
潑猴 (pō hóu) "insolent ape." 越發無禮 (yuè fā wú lǐ) "more and more disrespectful." The elder, far from softened by Wukong's protest, hardens into fury — the reconciliations of the earlier cycles will not recur.
"By your account, only you are a human being — and Wuneng and Wujing there, they're not human?"
那悟能、悟淨 (nà Wù néng, Wù jìng) "that Wuneng and Wujing," 那 (nà) — Bajie's and Sha Monk's dharma-names. 就不是人 (jiù bú shì rén) "are they not human [too]?" The elder's angry retort — do you alone have judgement? — stings Wukong to the grief-stricken reply of the next passage.
The third dismissal is unlike the first two: it is not reversed. Wukong no longer kneels and pleads; wounded, he asserts the injustice plainly — 我倒打死他，替你除了害, "I struck her dead to rid you of harm" — and then, invoking the proverb 事不過三, "a thing should not pass three times," turns his going into a matter of his own honour rather than mere obedience. Pride and grief together carry him to "I'll go, I'll go."
Even so, his parting words remain protective: 你手下無人, "once I'm gone, you'll have no one at your command." It is a warning, not a threat, and the novel will vindicate it repeatedly. The tragedy is that this care is invisible to the elder, who hears only insolence and flies into a rage where before he had relented.
The elder's furious retort — do only you have judgement; are Wuneng and Wujing not human too? — is the cruellest cut, dismissing Wukong's unique sight as mere arrogance and setting his loyal disciples above him. It stings precisely because it denies what the whole chapter has proven: that Wukong alone saw truly. And it provokes the grief-stricken lament of the next passage, where the Great Sage answers not with anger but with the memory of everything he has given.