巍然不動 He Did Not Stir
大聖公然不懼，使鐵棒劈手相迎。他兩個往往來來，戰經五七回合，羅剎女手軟難掄，孫行者身強善敵。他見事勢不諧，即取扇子，望行者搧了一扇，行者巍然不動。行者收了鐵棒，笑吟吟的道：「這番不比那番，任你怎麼搧來，老孫若動一動，就不算漢子。」那羅剎又搧兩扇。果然不動。羅剎慌了，急收寶貝轉回，走入洞裡，將門緊緊關上。大圣公然不惧，使铁棒劈手相迎。他两个往往来来，战经五七回合，罗刹女手软难抡，孙行者身强善敌。他见事势不谐，即取扇子，望行者扇了一扇，行者巍然不动。行者收了铁棒，笑吟吟的道：「这番不比那番，任你怎么扇来，老孙若动一动，就不算汉子。」那罗刹又扇两扇。果然不动。罗刹慌了，急收宝贝转回，走入洞里，将门紧紧关上。
逐句解 Line by line
The Great Sage was quite unafraid, and met her stroke with his iron cudgel as she struck.
劈手 describes an action taken the instant an opponent moves. 相 is xiāng in 相迎, marking something done to each other — the fourth and last of this chapter's four such uses.
The two of them went back and forth, and after five or seven bouts the Rākṣasī's arm grew too weak to swing, while Sun the Pilgrim was strong of body and good at the fight.
五七回合, "five or seven bouts," is the standard vague count of the martial romance. 難掄 is "hard to swing." 強 is qiáng in 身強. The outcome is being settled on the merits this time, which is precisely why she reaches for the fan.
Seeing that things were going badly, she took out the fan at once and fanned one fanning at Pilgrim — and Pilgrim stood towering and did not move.
巍然, "lofty, unmoved as a mountain." 一扇 uses 扇 as the measure for the act, and the verb beside it is 搧: the chapter keeps the two characters apart even when they stand four apart in one clause. 事勢不諧, "the situation not going harmoniously."
Pilgrim put away his iron cudgel and said, laughing all over his face, 'This time is not like the last. Fan as you please — if old Sun so much as stirs, I'm no man at all.'
笑吟吟, "smiling and humming," is a doubled word describing manner. 這番不比那番, "this round is not like that round" — he tells her outright that something has changed, and does not say what.
The Rākṣasī fanned two more fannings.
Seven characters. The narrator declines to describe the effort, and the shortness does work that a longer sentence would spoil.
Sure enough, he did not move.
Four characters, and the punch line. Apart from the two three-character tags that announce a poem, nothing else in the chapter is shorter. It is the narrator's verdict rather than any character's, which is why it is kept clear of the action it comments on.
The Rākṣasī was thrown into a panic. She snatched up her treasure, turned back, went into the cave and shut the door fast behind her.
將 is the handling word jiāng. The retreat is the exact reverse of her first victory: then she blew him away and 得勝回歸, returned home victorious; now she runs inside and bars the door. The fan has stopped working and she does not know why.
The fight goes exactly as the first one did. Five or seven bouts, her arm grows too weak to swing, he is strong of body and good at the work — and so she reaches for the fan, exactly as before, for exactly the same reason. The novel repeats the sequence deliberately so that the break in it will register.
巍然不動. He stood towering and did not move. The line gets no elaboration whatever, and Pilgrim's response is to put the cudgel away and invite her to keep trying: fan as you please, and if I stir I am no man. He does not explain, and the pleasure he takes in not explaining is the comedy of the passage.
Then the shortest sentence in the chapter. 那羅剎又搧兩扇 — she fanned twice more — and 果然不動, sure enough, he did not move. Four characters of verdict, and the treasure that has governed eight hundred lǐ of fire and ten years of sacrifice is finished as a weapon.
Her retreat mirrors her earlier triumph point for point. Then she blew him away and 得勝回歸, went home victorious; now she snatches up the fan, runs into the cave and bars the door. What she does not know — and what we have watched being sewn into a collar — is why. The whole second half of the chapter turns on that ignorance.