靈官執殿 Wang Lingguan Holds the Hall
這一番，那猴王不分上下，使鐵棒東打西敵，更無一神可擋，只打到通明殿裡，靈霄殿外。幸有佑聖真君的佐使王靈官執殿，他看大聖縱橫，掣金鞭近前擋住道：「潑猴何往？有吾在此，切莫猖狂。」這大聖不由分說，舉棒就打；那靈官鞭起相迎。兩個在靈霄殿前廝渾一處，好殺：这一番，那猴王不分上下，使铁棒东打西敌，更无一神可挡，只打到通明殿里，灵霄殿外。幸有佑圣真君的佐使王灵官执殿，他看大圣纵横，掣金鞭近前挡住道：「泼猴何往？有吾在此，切莫猖狂。」这大圣不由分说，举棒就打；那灵官鞭起相迎。两个在灵霄殿前厮浑一处，好杀：
逐句解 Line by line
This time the Monkey King, heeding neither high nor low, wielded his iron cudgel, striking east and warding west; not one god could withstand him, and he beat his way clear to the Hall of Universal Brightness, to the very outside of the Hall of Divine Mists.
一番 takes yì before fān (level tone), 一神 the same before shén (rising). 通明殿 and 靈霄殿 are the Jade Emperor's throne-halls, outer and inner. He has fought his way to the door of the supreme seat itself.
Luckily the True Lord Yousheng's aide-officer, Wang the Numinous Officer, was holding the hall; seeing the Great Sage run riot, he drew his golden whip, pressed forward to block him, and cried: "Where to, you rascally ape? With me here, by no means run wild!"
王靈官 is Wáng Líng guān, the thunder-officer Wang Shan — the armoured figure whose image stands just inside the gate of a Daoist temple, there to stop what should not come in. 掣 (chè) is to whip a weapon out. 切莫 keeps 切 as qiè: on no account.
The Great Sage, allowing no word of explanation, raised his cudgel and struck; the Officer's whip rose to meet it. The two grappled and tangled together before the Hall of Divine Mists — a fine fight!:
不由分說 — allowing no room to explain — keeps 分 as fēn. It is a set phrase, still used of anyone who acts before you can get a word in. 廝渾一處 is to tangle into a single mass; 一 before 處 (chù, falling tone) is yí. The lead-in 好殺, a fine fight, closes the prose, and the battle verse follows.
A red-blooded loyal heart, great in fair repute; one who cheats Heaven and deludes its lord — a name gone foul.
The verse works by putting the two fighters in matching lines and letting the contrast do the work. Wang Lingguan is 赤膽忠良, red-gall loyalty — the gallbladder being where Chinese locates courage, as English locates it in the heart. The monkey is 欺天誑上, the one who cheats Heaven and lies to his sovereign. 誑 (kuáng) is to deceive.
One base, one fine — happily they hold each other off; hero against hero, joined in the same wager-match.
In 一低一好 both instances of 一 take yì, before dī (level) and hǎo (dipping). 相持 keeps 相 as xiāng, each holding off the other. And note 賭賽, a wager-match. It is a small word to plant this early, given that the chapter will be settled by a bet.
The iron cudgel fierce, the golden whip swift — how can the upright and selfless endure it?
The line drops into three-beat units and the fight audibly speeds up — the poem doing with rhythm what a film does with cutting. 正直無私, straight and without self-interest, is Wang Lingguan's whole standing here: rectitude set against raw force.
This one is the Taiyi Thunder-Sound Responsive-Manifestation Honored One; that one is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the ape-and-monkey fiend.
Each fighter gets his full ceremonial title, the way a ring announcer reads out the belts. 應化 keeps 應 as yìng: the responsive manifestation, the shape a god takes when he appears in order to save somebody. 這個…那個, this one and that one, is the standard frame these verses use to set two figures against each other.
Golden whip and iron cudgel — both houses have their skill; both are immortal arms of the divine palace.
兩家 is both parties, both sides. For one line the poem levels them: two celestial weapons, two equal hands. That is the deadlock the closing lines settle into.
Today before the Treasure Hall of Divine Mists they flaunt their might, each displaying heroic talent — truly a sight to love.
弄威風 is to show off, to throw your weight about. Then the narrator calls it 真可愛, truly lovely — said of two people trying to kill each other — and the seam shows. This verse exists to be enjoyed as a set piece, and the storyteller is enjoying it.
The one, heart-cheating, would seize the Dipper-and-Ox Palace; the other strains every sinew to uphold the realm of the Dark Sage.
Both instances of 一個 take yí before gè (falling tone). 斗牛宮 is the palace at the Dipper and Ox lodges — two of the twenty-eight constellations into which the Chinese sky is divided — standing here for the seat the monkey wants. 玄聖界 is the realm of the Dark Sage, the True Warrior, who is Wang Lingguan's own lord.
Bitterly they strive, neither yielding, displaying their powers; whip and cudgel come and go with no victor and no vanquished.
苦爭不讓 is a bitter refusal to give ground. The verse ends where it has to: 無勝敗, no victory and no defeat. A draw is the one result that forces Heaven to escalate, and thirty-six thunder generals duly arrive in the next passage.
With Laozi's furnace wrecked, the monkey resumes his assault and reaches the threshold of the Jade Emperor's own throne-halls, 通明殿 and 靈霄殿. One defender stands in the way: Wang Lingguan (王靈官), the fierce thunder-officer who guards the Daoist sanctum. Their duel is written up as a formal battle rhapsody, a fù — which is why the passage carries the 含詞賦 tag.
The verse is built entirely out of balanced opposites. Line by line it sets 赤膽忠良 against 欺天誑上, 正直無私 against raw monkey force, the one who would seize the Dipper Palace against the one who upholds the realm of the Dark Sage. This is not ornament. Pairing the lines stages the chapter's moral question — order against the unbound 心猿 — as a perfectly even standoff. And the repeated verdict 無勝敗, no victor, is the structural point: Heaven's righteous force can hold the mind-monkey off but cannot subdue him.
That deadlock is what forces the chapter's real turn. Neither the Daoist furnace nor the Daoist guardian can settle him; only the Buddha, summoned shortly, will. Plaks reads this run of failures — troops, Erlang, furnace, Wang Lingguan, thunder generals — as the novel arguing that a disordered mind cannot be beaten into order at all, only transformed by a higher wisdom. Seen that way, the elegant balance of the battle verse is a portrait of futility.