賭鬥 The Combat
那怪聞言,那裡肯讓。使七星劍,丟開解數,與八戒一往一來,在山中賭鬥有二十回合,不分勝負。八戒發起狠來,捨死的相迎。那怪見他捽耳朵,噴粘涎,舞釘鈀,口裡吆吆喝喝的,也盡有些悚懼,即回頭招呼小怪,一齊動手。若是一個打一個,其實還好。他見那些小妖齊上,慌了手腳,遮架不住,敗了陣,回頭就跑。那怪闻言,那里肯让。使七星剑,丢开解数,与八戒一往一来,在山中赌斗有二十回合,不分胜负。八戒发起狠来,舍死的相迎。那怪见他捽耳朵,喷粘涎,舞钉钯,口里吆吆喝喝的,也尽有些悚惧,即回头招呼小怪,一齐动手。若是一个打一个,其实还好。他见那些小妖齐上,慌了手脚,遮架不住,败了阵,回头就跑。
逐句解 Line by line
The fiend, hearing this, was in no way minded to yield.
那裡肯讓, nǎ lǐ kěn ràng, "not about to give way" — rhetorical, so 那 is nǎ; but 那怪 two characters earlier points at the fiend, so there it is nà.
Wielding his seven-star sword and opening up his fighting forms, he traded blows with Eight Rules back and forth, and they contended on the mountain some twenty rounds without decision.
七星劍, qī xīng jiàn, the seven-star sword, its blade inlaid with the seven stars of the Dipper — a Daoist ritual weapon before it is a fighting one. 丟開解數 means to open out one's repertoire of moves: 解數 is the set of forms a martial artist has been taught, the word that survives in 渾身解數, giving something everything you have. 中 in 山中 is zhōng. Twenty rounds, no result.
Eight Rules worked himself into a fury and met him with reckless abandon.
捨死的相迎, shě sǐ de xiāng yíng, "meeting him as a man who has given up on living" — 捨死 is to throw your life away, the same construction as modern 捨命. 相 is xiāng. For once, Eight Rules is genuinely dangerous.
The fiend, seeing him shake his ears, spew sticky slobber, brandish his rake, and holler and shout, felt no little dread himself, and turned at once to call up the little fiends to fall on him all together.
And it works. 捽耳朵,噴粘涎, zuó ěr duo, pēn zhān xián, "shaking his ears, spraying sticky slobber" — the novel never lets us forget what he looks like, even when he is winning. 吆吆喝喝 is roaring and hollering. 那 is nà. The phrase 也盡有些悚懼 means the fiend was quite badly frightened, 盡 here carrying the sense "rather, a good deal" that later Chinese writes with 儘; the edition prints 盡 and the ruby gives it the corpus reading jìn.
Had it been one against one, all would have been well enough.
其實還好, qí shí hái hǎo, "would have been all right" — 還 read hái. The narrator steps in to say it out loud: one against one, he would have been fine.
But when he saw the little fiends come on all at once, he lost his nerve, could not ward them off, broke and gave way, and turned to run.
遮架不住, zhē jià bù zhù, "could not keep them off" — 遮架 is parrying, warding. 敗了陣, "his line broke." 那些 takes 那 as nà. Thirty at once is a different proposition, and he runs.
The combat is written in the novel's standard idiom — the seven-star sword against the nine-tooth rake, twenty rounds without a result — and for once Eight Rules acquits himself well. Worked into a fury, ears flapping, slobbering and roaring, he frightens Silver-Horn, who has to be described as rather badly shaken. This is the pig at his best, and the novel gives him the moment properly, without undercutting it.
Then the demon does the sensible thing and calls up the other thirty. The narrator's aside is the most generous line anyone gives Eight Rules in the whole chapter: one against one, it would have been all right. He loses on numbers rather than on skill or nerve, which is a face-saving frame the novel reliably extends to its sympathetic bunglers — and it is also, on the evidence of the preceding twenty rounds, true.