大精小怪 What Care I For Fiends
說甚麼大精小怪，那怕他憊懶煨膿。一趕趕上去，跑的跑，顫的顫，躲的躲，慌的慌；一捉捉將來，銼的銼，燒的燒，磨的磨，舂的舂。说甚么大精小怪，那怕他惫懒煨脓。一赶赶上去，跑的跑，颤的颤，躲的躲，慌的慌；一捉捉将来，锉的锉，烧的烧，磨的磨，舂的舂。
逐句解 Line by line
"What are you telling me about great spirits and little monsters? What do I care for their lazy, festering kind?
那 is nǎ here, in the phrase that means even if or what does it matter — a question word doing concessive work, not pointing at anything. 憊懶 is worn-out and idle, and 煨膿, simmering pus, is as insulting as this novel's vocabulary gets.
One chase and I am on them: the runners run, the tremblers tremble, the hiders hide, the panickers panic;
Four clauses each built by doubling the same verb, so that the action and the doer are the same word. It is a rhythm the Chinese does easily and English has to work at.
one grab and I have them: the filed get filed, the burnt get burnt, the ground get ground, the pounded get pounded."
將 is the disposal marker again. The four verbs are all workshop processes — filing, burning, grinding, pounding in a mortar — which turns the fate of a captured fiend into a list of manufacturing steps.
The boast reaches its climax in two lines of pure rhythm, four doubled verbs apiece, and the effect in Chinese is closer to a drum pattern than to speech.
The two halves are exactly matched: one chase and they scatter, one grab and they are processed. The second list is genuinely nasty — filed, burnt, ground, pounded — and it is delivered with the cheerfulness of someone describing a hobby.
This is Pilgrim doing what he does best, which is not fighting but performing. The monks needed reassurance and what they are getting is a music-hall turn about industrial violence.