The old turtle cried again: "Great Sage, do not build a boat. I will carry you and your master across."

那老黿 points, nà; 黿 yuán. He repeats the offer — and Wukong's first response is not gratitude.

Pilgrim, whirling his iron rod, said: "You accursed beast! If you come near the edge, one stroke of this rod and I'll kill you."

掄著 keeps 著 as zhe. 孽畜 takes 畜 as chù, the noun "beast" (the same reading as in 牲畜, livestock), not the verb xù, to rear. Anything that surfaces from the demon's river is, as far as Wukong is concerned, another enemy.

The old turtle said: "I am grateful for the Great Sage's kindness and gladly offer, with a good heart, to carry you across. Why do you turn instead and want to strike me?"

黿 yuán. 情願, willing of one's own accord. The turtle's baffled protest — I come to thank you and you swing a club at me — is what turns the suspicion aside.

Pilgrim said: "What kindness have I done you?"

有甚恩惠 takes 甚 as the asking shén, "what." The question opens the long recital of grievance and debt that follows.

The old turtle said: "Great Sage, you do not know: this Mansion of the Water Turtle down below was my own dwelling, handed down from my forefathers through the generations.

Two occurrences of 黿 (yuán): 老黿 and 水黿之第. He is establishing title, in the legal sense — the mansion was his family seat before the demon took it, and the signboard has been saying so since the second passage of the chapter.

Because I awoke to my own root and nature and nurtured the numinous breath, and did my cultivation in this place, I rebuilt my ancestral home from top to bottom and made of it a Mansion of the Water Turtle.

此處 keeps 處 as chù; 修行 keeps 行 as xíng; 將祖居 takes 將 as jiāng, handing you the object before the verb; 翻蓋了 takes 了 as le; 黿 yuán. So he is a self-made adept: he woke up to his own nature, put in the years, and rebuilt the family house with what he had earned.

That fiend, nine years ago, when the sea roared and the waves turned over, rode in on the tide-head, came to this place, and relying on his ferocity and violence, fought with me. He wounded many of my sons and daughters and carried off many of my kin.

那妖邪 points, nà; 此處 keeps 處 as chù; 傷了 and 奪了 both take 了 as le; 兒女 takes 兒 as ér, the word for a child. The usurpation is told as a family catastrophe — children killed, relatives carried off — which is the first time in the chapter anyone has counted the demon's cost in those terms.

I could not out-fight him, and my den and burrow were taken from me for nothing.

將巢穴 takes 將 as jiāng; 占了 takes 占 as zhàn, to seize, and 了 as le. 白白的, for nothing, all for nothing — and this is the injury Wukong has now avenged without ever knowing it existed.

Now, thanks to the Great Sage coming here to rescue the Tang master, and inviting the Guanyin Bodhisattva to sweep clean the fiendish vapours, take away the monster, and return the mansion to me,

請了 takes 了 as le; 觀音 keeps 觀 as guān; 將第宅 takes 將 as jiāng; 還歸 keeps 還 as hái. He lists his restoration item by item: the demon gone, the taint swept out, the house handed back.

I now have my whole household reunited, old and young, and need no more heap up earth and daub on mud, but may dwell in my old home.

團圞: 圞 (luán) means round and whole, and 團圞 is the family gathered complete — the same idea English reaches for with "the whole family under one roof." 挨土幫泥: 挨 āi, to shove up against, and 幫 bāng, to daub — the makeshift business of scraping a shelter out of the mud, which is what he has been doing for nine years. 得居 keeps 得 as dé; 舊舍 takes 舍 as shè.

This kindness is heavy as a mountain, deep as the great sea.

恩重 takes 重 as zhòng, "heavy." A mountain and the sea, paired: the standard way of saying a debt that cannot be paid off.

And not my kind alone have had the benefit: the people of this one village are spared their yearly sacrifice, and how many households' sons and daughters are kept whole.

免得 takes 得 as the toneless de; 祭賽 keeps 賽 as sài; 全了 takes 了 as le; 多少 keeps 少 as shǎo; 兒女 keeps 兒 as ér. He counts the village's children in with his own, which is generous of him and also, given what happened to his own, pointed.

This is truly what is called a kindness that gains two ends at a single stroke — how should I not repay it?"

一舉而兩得 keeps 得 as dé, to gain. The turtle is quoting 一舉兩得 — one action, two gains, the exact equivalent of killing two birds with one stone — and applying it to a rescue that was never aimed at him at all.

Pilgrim, hearing this, was secretly glad at heart. He put away his iron rod and said: "Is this the real truth of your feeling?"

心中 keeps 中 as zhōng; 收了 takes 了 as le; 端的 is spoken Chinese for "really, honestly now." The rod goes away, but the interrogation does not stop.

The old turtle said: "Because the Great Sage's kindness and virtue are broad and deep, how should I dare speak falsely?"

老黿 keeps 黿 as yuán; 虛謬 takes 謬 as miù, false. He protests his sincerity, and gets asked to prove it.

Pilgrim said: "Since it is your true feeling, swear an oath to Heaven."

朝天賭咒: 朝 is cháo, "facing toward," and 咒 is zhòu, a curse called down on your own head. Wukong wants the oath because a creature that can talk can also lie — which is the exact reverse of the principle he will offer his master in the very next passage.

The old turtle, opening his red mouth, swore an oath to Heaven: "If I do not truly carry the Tang Monk across this River That Reaches to Heaven, may my body dissolve into a pool of blood."

那老黿 points, nà; 黿 yuán; 張著 keeps 著 as zhe; 朝天 keeps 朝 as cháo; 將身 takes 將 as jiāng; 化為 takes 化 as huà and 為 as wèi, "into." The self-curse is the security Wukong asked for, and it is a big one: may I dissolve into blood.

Pilgrim laughed: "Come up, come up."

你上來, twice. The raised rod becomes a laugh, and the passage turns on that reversal.