Kowloon Walled City, 1993. The excavators move in. Hong Kong's anarchic mountain—14 stories of informal construction, 33,000 residents in 6.4 acres, no government oversight for decades—begins systematic dismantling. Hexagram 23: splitting apart. Mountain above, earth below. The structure is collapsing, but this isn't vengeance. It's logistics. The government doesn't send police with battering rams at 3 AM. They stabilize, document, relocate. They pay compensation. They photograph every room before demolition. They preserve what can be preserved. The cross-section mid-demolition shows the honeycombed interior: rooms stacked on rooms, wiring running through cavities like veins, calendars still on walls, beds visible through torn netting. The excavator bites into one floor while sodium work-lamps glow in the exposed cavities above. The mountain is returning to earth, but methodically. Here's what the classical text teaches: it does not further one to go anywhere. When the foundation is splitting, don't try to build higher. Don't insist the mountain can stand indefinitely on eroding earth. Accept what's happening. The yin lines are rising—five dark lines mounting upward, only one light line at top barely holding. This is time conditions, not personal failure. Wrong response: stubborn resistance. The residents who refused relocation, who insisted Kowloon could continue forever. That leads to greater loss—being buried when the structure finally collapses. Right response: managed transition. Document what was, relocate who lived there, let the mountain return to sediment but preserve the seed of good. The seed of good remains. Kowloon's demolition produced comprehensive photographic documentation. Architectural studies. Oral histories. The residents were relocated with compensation. The lessons—about informal urbanism, about what happens when density exceeds all planning—those persist. The physical mountain is gone, but the knowledge it generated moves forward. Your equivalent: the project is failing. The relationship is ending. The technology is obsolete. You can feel the foundation splitting. Five yin lines have risen; only one yang line barely holds. Don't undertake new action. Don't pour resources into saving what time has condemned. Stabilize, document, relocate. Manage the splitting with care. The mountain rests on earth. When earth reclaims what was built upon it, the wise don't fight gravity. They ensure those above (leadership, remaining stakeholders) maintain position by giving generously to those below (the people affected by the collapse). Compensation, documentation, orderly transition. Kowloon took 14 months to demolish. Not sudden catastrophe—methodical return to sediment. That's how you handle splitting apart when you can't prevent it. The excavators bite, the rooms open like a geode, and what remains is ground-level earth where the mountain once stood. The seed of good: lessons learned, lives moved forward, comprehensive record of what was.