Perhaps twenty li.

( Less than half a shichen's run, if Xichen is not yet so reduced, so feeble. He appears in tolerable health, holding, if bloodied. Weighed down by bloodshed, stench corrosive. Lan Wangji, no better, disdains the offer before he makes it, forever hesitant to stain Bichen's blade, yet — )

Can you yet fly?

( Perhaps not so, if Xichen's qi has exhausted itself beneath two watchful moons, while hellspawn wander. )