चैत्यप्रासादविध्वंसः चैत्यपालवधश्च

Having slain the Kiṅkaras, Hanumān fell to thinking about what to do next. "I have wrecked the pleasure grove, but this temple-palace has not been destroyed. So this very day I will bring it down as well." Thinking this, he displayed his strength first in his mind: resolve by thought first, then the deed. The temple-palace was the shrine of the rākṣasas' family deity in Laṅkā, so destroying it struck at the very root of Rāvaṇa's pride, for the seat of the family deity was the emblem of the city's protection. Then Hanumān, best of monkeys, son of the Wind, leapt up onto the temple-palace, tall as a peak of Meru, and climbed it. Standing on that mountain-like palace, the leader of monkey troops, blazing with great splendour, shone like a second sun newly risen. The order of his work is clear: first the grove, then the Kiṅkaras, and now the shrine; one by one he was attacking every seat of Rāvaṇa's glory. Standing on that height he could be seen by all the people of Laṅkā, and that too was his purpose, for he wanted to show his valour openly, not in secret.

Assailing the lofty temple-palace, the invincible Hanumān, ablaze with his own radiance, looked like the Pāriyātra mountain, one of the great mountain ranges, an image of the size and steadiness of his body. Then, taking on an immense body, the mighty son of the Wind boldly slapped his arms, filling all Laṅkā with the sound. Slapping the arms with the palm is a wrestler's challenge to fight; this was not only a show of strength but a plain challenge to the rākṣasas. At the great, ear-splitting sound of it, the birds there and the temple guards fell to the ground stupefied; the sound alone was enough to make the guards faint, so dreadful was he. After the breaking of the trees and the slaying of the Kiṅkaras, this fresh uproar roused the whole city again and brought fresh alarm to Rāvaṇa's court.

Then Hanumān proclaimed aloud: "Victory to Rāma, master of weapons, and to mighty Lakṣmaṇa! Victory to King Sugrīva, protected by Rāghava! I am the servant of Rāma, lord of Kosala, whose deeds are done without strain; I am Hanumān, son of the Wind, destroyer of enemy hosts. Not even a thousand Rāvaṇas could match me in battle when I strike with rocks and trees by the thousand. I will crush the city of Laṅkā, pay my respects to Maithilī, and leave, my purpose achieved, while all the rākṣasas look on." This is the famous victory cry: first his masters' victory, then his own introduction as "servant", and last his vow. By calling himself a servant along with his own name, he declared that his valour belonged to Rāma, not to himself. "Whose deeds are done without strain" means that Rāma's works succeed without effort. "While all the rākṣasas look on" shows his confidence: he would not steal away like a thief but leave openly. Paying his respects to Sītā was part of his vow too, for she was the root of his whole task, and even the crushing of Laṅkā was for her sake.

Having said this, the huge monkey leader standing on the temple let out a terrible roar that struck fear into the rākṣasas. Drawn by that great roar, a hundred temple guards came running, seizing weapons of every kind, lances, swords and axes. Hurling them, those huge rākṣasas surrounded the son of the Wind on every side. With ornate maces, with iron bars bound in gold and with arrows bright as the sun, they fell upon the best of monkeys, and the host of rākṣasas ringing him round looked like a great, broad whirlpool in the waters of the Gaṅgā. The whirlpool image suggests the rākṣasas circling around him while Hanumān stood unmoving at the centre. Then the son of the Wind, enraged, took on a fearsome form. With great force he tore out a huge gold-adorned pillar of the palace, and the mighty one whirled that hundred-edged pillar round, until fire sprang up from the friction and the palace began to burn. Here too the weapon came from the enemy's own house: the guards of the palace were killed with the palace's own pillar. The burning of the palace is like a foreshadowing of the burning of Laṅkā to come. A hundred temple guards had come, but their numbers counted for nothing against one monkey. His taking on a fearsome form had been seen in the earlier sargas too: whenever his enemies grew, he grew his own body. The pillar was hundred-edged, with many corners, so that whirled around it struck all who stood around him at once. By saying the fire arose of itself, the poet suggests that Hanumān's speed alone kindled it, not any deliberate effort.

Seeing the palace ablaze, the monkey leader killed a hundred rākṣasas with that pillar, as Indra slays the asuras with his thunderbolt. Then, standing in the sky, the glorious Hanumān said: "Thousands of mighty lords of monkeys like me, great-souled and obedient to Sugrīva, have been sent out in every direction; we and other monkeys are roaming the whole earth. Some have the strength of ten elephants, some ten times more, some are equal in valour to a thousand elephants. Some have the strength of a flood, some the strength of the wind, and some monkey leaders have strength beyond measure. With such monkeys around him, whose weapons are their teeth and claws, by hundreds, by hundreds of thousands, by tens of thousands and by crores, Sugrīva will come, and he will destroy you all. Neither this city of Laṅkā will remain, nor you, nor Rāvaṇa, since he has bound himself in enmity with the great-souled hero of the Ikṣvākus." Here Hanumān made himself out to be just one ordinary envoy; by saying there were thousands like him, he increased the fear in the rākṣasas' minds. If a single monkey had caused so much ruin, what would happen when thousands came? That was the worry he planted in them, a deliberate policy of breaking the enemy's spirit before the battle begins. At the end he made the cause of the enmity plain: the conflict with the hero of the Ikṣvākus, not any cruelty of the monkeys, was the root of Laṅkā's ruin. He spoke standing in the sky so that all could hear. The strengths mount step by step, from ten elephants to strength beyond measure, and the numbers from hundreds to crores. "Whose weapons are their teeth and claws" means the monkeys had no weapons, yet with teeth and claws alone they were invincible.