十節兒已上了九節七八分 Nine Joints of Ten, and Most of the Tenth
卻是悟能說的，我們十節兒已上了九節七八分了，你還把熱舌頭鐸我。快早夾著，你休開那臭口；再若無禮，我就念起咒來，教你了當不得。」行者聽說念咒，慌得跪在面前道：「莫念，莫念。若是真女人，待拜堂時，我們一齊大鬧皇宮，領你去也。」却是悟能说的，我们十节儿已上了九节七八分了，你还把热舌头铎我。快早夹着，你休开那臭口；再若无礼，我就念起咒来，教你了当不得。」行者听说念咒，慌得跪在面前道：「莫念，莫念。若是真女人，待拜堂时，我们一齐大闹皇宫，领你去也。」
逐句解 Line by line
"It is just as Wuneng said — of ten joints we have climbed nine and seven or eight parts of the last, and here you are poking at me with that hot tongue of yours. Clamp it shut, quick, and do not open that stinking mouth of yours again.
The image is a length of bamboo, which grows in joints, and it is the pilgrimage: they are nine and a bit tenths of the way to India. It is the closest this book comes to a progress bar, and it is being used, as such things always are, as an argument for not giving up now. 熱舌頭鐸我 is wonderfully physical — jabbing at me with a hot tongue. And 夾著, keep it clamped, is still what Chinese says to somebody who should shut up: the full form is to keep your tongue, or your tail, tucked in.
"If you are impertinent once more I shall start reciting the spell, and I will leave you unable to cope with it."
The threat that ends every argument these two ever have. The band round Pilgrim's head tightens when Tripitaka recites, and there is no defence against it. 了當不得 — where 了 is liǎo, to manage or settle a thing, and not the small word that marks something finished, which is how the same character is read everywhere else in this chapter.
Hearing the spell mentioned, Pilgrim dropped in a fluster to his knees in front of him and said, "Don't recite, don't recite. If she is a genuine woman, then when it comes to the bowing we will make one great uproar through the palace together and carry you off."
He folds instantly, which he always does, and the speed is the joke — the creature who fought the armies of Heaven is on the floor at the mention of a headache. And look at what he actually promises. If she is genuine, they will wreck the wedding and take him away anyway. He has just agreed to the opposite of what he was arguing a hundred characters ago, and he says it kneeling, and it is what Tripitaka wanted all along. 拜堂 is the bow at the centre of a Chinese wedding — to heaven and earth, to the parents, and to each other. It is the moment the marriage becomes real, which is why it is the deadline.
The quarrel ends the way these quarrels always end: Tripitaka reaches for the spell, Pilgrim goes down on his knees, and the scene is over. What is different this time is what he concedes on the way down.
Read the two offers side by side. A moment ago: if she is real, marry her and enjoy it. Now, on his knees: if she is real, we will smash the place up and carry you out. The second is not a plan for detecting a fraud. It is a promise that the pilgrimage continues whatever the answer turns out to be, and it is the thing Tripitaka was frightened enough to threaten him over.
The bamboo is the best image in the passage and it belongs to Eight Rules, who apparently said it earlier and off the page. Nine joints of ten and most of the tenth: near enough to count, far enough to lose. Everybody who has ever been talked out of quitting has heard that argument.