Following ends by becoming permanent. Legge's translation of the topmost line describes sincerity firmly held and clung to, and then bound fast, and closes with the king presenting his offerings on the western mountain. The repetition in the first half is the point: held, clung to, and then tied, three degrees of attachment in a single clause, each tighter than the last. Whatever freedom of choice the first line exercised in going beyond its own gate is gone by this position.
A yielding stroke correctly occupies this even place at the top of the upper trigram Dui, past the ruling seat and at the end of the hexagram's movement. Sixth lines describe situations that have run their full course, and here the course has run into permanence. The image that follows is a royal sacrifice at a mountain in the west, an act of ritual obligation that recurs and is not renegotiated, and it supplies the register the whole line is written in.
The hexagram is not judging this state, which is why no fortune is pronounced. What it does is complete an argument. Following began as a free change of direction, passed through choices that could be reversed, was warned about ambiguity and steadied by a standard, and now hardens into a bond that is simply kept. The offering on the mountain is the picture of what attachment finally looks like when it has stopped being a decision and become a practice.