When a man rises up and throws his contempt like stones, the ego wants to hurl the insult back. Another path stays open. Fleeing his own son who hunts his life, the king feels the deeper current beneath this smaller sting and says, let him alone. He stops fighting what the moment has brought.
Nothing in this is weakness. When a person no longer insists that the instant be other than it is, the reactive self that feeds on offense goes quiet, and only presence remains. The curse still lands, yet it finds no one inside willing to be wounded. His suffering ends because he has taken back the mind that wanted the fight.