一刻不可離 Never to Be Parted From Them
噫！這兵器原是他們隨身之寶，一刻不可離者，各藏在身，自有許多光彩護體。今放在廠院中幾日，那霞光有萬道沖天，瑞氣有千般罩地。噫！这兵器原是他们随身之宝，一刻不可离者，各藏在身，自有许多光彩护体。今放在厂院中几日，那霞光有万道冲天，瑞气有千般罩地。
逐句解 Line by line
Ah! These weapons were treasures the three of them carried on their persons, never to be parted from for a moment. Kept hidden about the body, they gave off a great deal of radiance that guarded their owners.
噫 is the storyteller's bare cry of alarm, the same one he used for the speed of the banquet — used there for wonder and here for dread. 一刻不可離, not to be separated from for a quarter of an hour, states the rule that has just been broken. 藏 is cáng here, to hide — the last of only three places in the chapter where the character is not part of Tripitaka's name.
Now they had been left in the yard for some days, and their rosy light shot up in ten thousand beams to heaven, and their lucky vapour spread in a thousand kinds over the ground.
The very quality that made them protective now makes them a beacon. 萬道沖天 and 千般罩地 pair ten thousand against a thousand and heaven against earth, the same construction the chapter has used since Sha Monk's opening speech. Every previous time it described something good.
The storyteller breaks in with a single syllable of alarm and then explains what the reader may not have realised: these weapons are not merely carried, they are worn.
The light is the trap. It was armour while the weapons were under a coat; in an open yard it is a signal fire visible for seventy li, which is precisely how far away the next thing is sitting.