二魔披掛 · 打扮 The Second Fiend Arms; His Array
眾妖擡出披掛，二魔結束齊整，執寶劍，出門外，叫聲：「孫行者，你往那裡走了？」此時大聖已在雲端裡，聞得叫他名字，急回頭觀看，原來是那二魔。你看他怎生打扮：众妖抬出披挂，二魔结束齐整，执宝剑，出门外，叫声：「孙行者，你往那里走了？」此时大圣已在云端里，闻得叫他名字，急回头观看，原来是那二魔。你看他怎生打扮：
逐句解 Line by line
The host of fiends carried out the armor, and the second fiend girded himself trim and complete, grasped his precious sword, and went out the gate, shouting: “Sun the Pilgrim, where have you run off to?” By this time the Great Sage was already up in the clouds; hearing his name called, he turned his head to look, and there was that second fiend.
結束齊整 jié shù qí zhěng means girded trim and complete — 結束 here is not the modern "to finish" but its older sense, to fasten oneself into one's kit. The two 那 split as usual: 你往那裡走了 nǐ wǎng nǎ lǐ zǒu le, where have you run off to, asks; 原來是那二魔 yuán lái shì nà èr mó, so it was that second fiend, points. 聞得 wén de, hearing, on the how-well de.
See how he was arrayed:
你看他怎生打扮 nǐ kàn tā zěn shēng dǎ bàn, see how he was got up — the storyteller's cue phrase ushering in an arming-portrait, the martial counterpart of the crone's portrait earlier. The edition indents the four lines that follow.
On his head a phoenix helm to shame the year-end snow; on his back battle-mail agleam like polished steel.
鳳盔欺臘雪 fèng kuī qī là xuě, a phoenix helm outshining the twelfth-month snow — 欺 is literally to bully, so the helm is not merely whiter than the snow but beating it. 戰甲幌鑌鐵 zhàn jiǎ huǎng bīn tiě, battle-mail glinting like fine steel: 鑌鐵 is tempered iron, the good stuff, a word that entered Chinese along the trade routes.
At his waist a belt of python-dragon sinew; on soft leather boots the plum-blossom pleats.
蟒龍觔 mǎng lóng jīn, python-dragon sinew — 觔 is a variant way of writing 筋, sinew, and the two differ by a single element. 粉皮靴靿梅花摺 fěn pí xuē yào méi huā zhé, soft-leather boot-tops in plum-blossom pleats: 靴靿 is specifically the shaft of the boot, and the pleating is a decorative fold named for the five petals it echoes.
His face like the living True Lord of the Guankou shrine; his mien matched with Mighty-Spirit, no whit apart.
灌口活真君 guàn kǒu huó zhēn jūn, the living True Lord of Guankou — that is Erlang, the god of the Guankou shrine in Sichuan, and the one opponent who ever got the better of Wukong in a straight fight. 巨靈 jù líng is the Mighty-Spirit god who split the sacred peak in two. To compare a demon to both is to promise the reader a real fight.
A seven-star sword upheld in his hand; his wrath surging to the heavens, awesome and fierce.
七星寶劍手中擎 qī xīng bǎo jiàn shǒu zhōng qíng, a seven-star sword upheld in the hand — 中 read zhōng; the seven stars are the Dipper, inlaid or engraved on the blade. 怒氣沖霄 nù qì chōng xiāo, his wrath surging skyward, closes the portrait on ferocity rather than finery.
The chapter's second set-piece verse arms the second fiend for battle, and its idiom is martial where the matriarch's was matronly: phoenix helm, steel mail, python-sinew belt, plum-pleated boots, a seven-star sword upheld and wrath surging to heaven. The catalogue dresses the demon in the full regalia of a warrior-god, and the comparisons make the claim outright — his face like Erlang of Guankou, his bearing matched with the peak-splitting Mighty-Spirit.
The portrait's job is to raise the stakes before the fight. Where the earlier verse invited the reader to see through a disguise, this one asks for respect toward a genuine adversary. The second fiend is no gulled crone but a formidable combatant, and the honour-guard of divine likenesses signals that Wukong has at last drawn an opponent worth three bouts. Armed and enraged, the fiend goes out to challenge the Great Sage, and the chapter turns from stratagem to open war.