伏之於地 Four Feet Flat On The Ground
那妖認得是主人,不敢展掙,四隻腳伏之於地,只是磕頭。傍邊跑過獅奴兒,一把撾住項毛,用拳著項上打夠百十,口裡罵道:「你這畜生,如何偷走,教我受罪?」那獅獸合口無言,不敢搖動。獅奴兒打得手困,方才住了,即將錦韂安在他身上。天尊騎了,喝聲教走。他就縱身駕起彩雲,徑轉妙巖宮去。大聖望空稱謝了,卻入洞中,先解玉華王,次解唐三藏,次又解了八戒、沙僧並三王子。那妖认得是主人,不敢展挣,四只脚伏之于地,只是磕头。傍边跑过狮奴儿,一把挝住项毛,用拳着项上打够百十,口里骂道:「你这畜生,如何偷走,教我受罪?」那狮兽合口无言,不敢摇动。狮奴儿打得手困,方才住了,即将锦韂安在他身上。天尊骑了,喝声教走。他就纵身驾起彩云,径转妙岩宫去。大圣望空称谢了,却入洞中,先解玉华王,次解唐三藏,次又解了八戒、沙僧并三王子。
逐句解 Line by line
That fiend knew him for his master, and dared not struggle; he laid all four feet flat on the ground and did nothing but knock his head down.
The surrender is written as an animal's, not a warrior's. 展掙 is to strain and wriggle against a hold, 伏之於地 is going flat, and 磕頭 is the ordinary word for knocking the forehead on the floor in submission. One line, and the nine-headed terror becomes somebody's dog.
The lion-keeper came running up at the side, grabbed a fistful of his neck mane and gave the neck a good hundred punches, cursing him: "You wretched beast! How could you run off and leave me to take the punishment?"
The stable lad who caused all this now beats the animal for it, which is very nearly the funniest thing in the chapter. 傍 is páng again, standing for the character meaning the side of something. 著 is zhuó inside 著項上, the applying reading - bringing the fist to bear on the neck. And 畜生 keeps its everyday colloquial shape: it is what any Chinese speaker still shouts at an animal, or at a person they are furious with.
That lion beast shut its mouth and said nothing, and dared not stir.
合口無言 - mouth closed, no words - of a creature with nine of them. The chapter's central image is the nine open mouths, and it closes them all in four characters.
The lion-keeper beat away until his hands were tired, and only then stopped; and at once he set the brocade saddlecloth on his back.
得 is de here, linking the beating to the state it brought about - he beat until his own hands gave out. 錦韂 is the embroidered cloth that hangs under a saddle, so the whole encounter ends with tack being fitted.
The Heavenly Worthy mounted, and with a shout told him to go.
喝 is hè inside 喝聲, the shouting reading, not the hē of drinking. Five characters for a god getting on a horse. The novel gives the moment no ceremony at all.
He then sprang up and rode a coloured cloud, going straight back to the Palace of Wondrous Crags.
He leaves without a word to anyone. There is no exchange of thanks, no parting speech, no acknowledgement of the prisoners. He came for his animal, and he has it.
The Great Sage gave his thanks to the empty sky, then went into the cave and loosed the king of Yuhua first, next the Tang Monk, and next Eight Rules and Sha Monk and the three princes.
望空稱謝 - giving thanks towards the empty air - is the courtesy paid to somebody already gone. Then the order of release, which is worth reading twice: the king first, the master second. Eight Rules, who wrecked the previous rescue by objecting to exactly this, comes fifth.
The chapter's whole conflict unwinds in one passage, and almost none of it is heroic. The creature goes flat on the ground. The stable lad who lost him beats him with his fists for a hundred blows. Somebody fits a saddlecloth. A god gets on and leaves.
The detail with the most sting is the punching. This lad drank stolen wine, slept through his duties, and set the whole disaster running; and the moment the animal is safely down he takes it out on the animal, shouting at it for the punishment he expects to receive. Nobody in the passage remarks on this.
And then the release order. King of Yuhua first, Tang Monk second, Eight Rules fifth. In the failed rescue in the cave, Pilgrim untied Sha Monk first and Eight Rules shouted about it loudly enough to wake the house. Here he comes even further down the list and does not say a word.