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Chapter 87: The Life Of Sun Simiao
🕑 Added 2025-04-28 13:09:44 +0000 UTCIn the far east, where the sun rose first over the lands of the Tang Dynasty, a man of unparalleled skill and wisdom had earned the title of the King of Medicine. His name was Sun Simiao, a magical healer whose reputation stretched far and wide. At just 25 years old, he was already revered as a master of potion-making and medicine, his knowledge and ingenuity unmatched by any other healer in the land. But what truly set Sun Simiao apart was not just his overwhelming magical prowess—it was his unwavering dedication to healing all, regardless of their status.
Sun Simiao had been born with a gift for magic, but from a young age, he had focused his talents on potion brewing and medicine. He developed spells to heal wounds, cure diseases, and even extend life. His potions were legendary, capable of curing ailments that baffled other healers. Yet, despite his immense power, Sun Simiao remained humble, treating commoners and nobles alike with the same care and respect.
One day, while Sun Simiao was tending to a poor commoner in a small village, a group of soldiers arrived. They had been sent by the Tang Emperor himself, demanding that Sun Simiao come to the palace to attend to the emperor’s health. The King of Medicine, however, was unimpressed.
“I have other patients to care for,” Sun Simiao said calmly, not even looking up from his work. “The palace has enough healers. They don’t need me.”
The soldiers were taken aback. No one refused the emperor’s orders. But Sun Simiao was not like other men. He continued his work, his focus unwavering. When the soldiers returned to the palace and relayed his response, the emperor was furious. He ordered Sun Simiao’s immediate imprisonment for the crime of defying the Son of Heaven.
The soldiers returned to Sun Simiao, their expressions grim, they respected Sun Simiao but they couldn’t disobey the emperor. They informed him of the emperor’s decision with a heavy hearts, expecting fear, resistance, or perhaps even pleading. But Sun Simiao simply raised an eyebrow and said, “The emperor seems to be tired of this life.”
Before the soldiers could react, Sun Simiao disappeared with a sharp crack, leaving them staring at empty air.
In the royal palace, chaos erupted as Sun Simiao appeared in the grand hall, walking with the confidence of a man who owned the place. The Tang Emperor, seated on his throne, stared in disbelief. “How did you get here?” he demanded. “Who allowed you to enter?”
Sun Simiao met the emperor’s gaze with calm indifference. “I came because I heard you ordered my imprisonment.”
The emperor’s face turned red with anger. “I ordered it for your insolence and disregard for the Son of Heaven orders!”
Sun Simiao nodded, as if considering the emperor’s words. “Then you don’t need to continue being the emperor,” he said simply. He began walking toward the throne, his steps measured and deliberate.
The emperor, now enraged, ordered his soldiers to seize Sun Simiao. But as the soldiers approached, the healer waved his hand, and they were thrown across the room like ragdolls. The court wizards, ten in total, stepped forward to challenge him. They were the most powerful magic-users in the empire, but they were no match for Sun Simiao. With a few exchanges, he defeated them all, leaving them sprawled on the floor.
Sun Simiao apparated next to the emperor, his hand closing around the man’s throat. “I happen to need someone to test my new soul research on,” he said, his voice cold. “You will be a suitable testing subject.”
The emperor’s eyes widened in terror, but he could do nothing to resist, he was not a wizard himself. Sun Simiao turned to the horrified ministers, soldiers, and wizards who watched in stunned silence. “Pick a new emperor,” he said. “This one is coming with me and will probably die by the end of my work. Make sure the next emperor knows his place.”
With that, Sun Simiao disapparated, taking the emperor with him. The court was left in shock, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. It didn’t take long for the declaration of the emperor’s passing to be made, though there was no mention of Sun Simiao at all. The new emperor, the son of the previous one, knew better than to provoke the eccentric and all-powerful healer or seek revenge for his father.
Sun Simiao’s actions sent a clear message: he was not a man to be trifled with. His power was unmatched, his will unyielding. But despite his fearsome reputation, Sun Simiao remained a healer at heart. His experiments with the former emperor’s soul were not born of cruelty but of a desire to understand the mysteries of life and death. He sought to push the boundaries of magic and medicine, to unlock secrets that could benefit all of humanity.
As the new emperor took the throne, the people of the Tang Dynasty whispered stories of the King of Medicine—a man who could heal the sick, defy emperors, and command magic beyond comprehension. Sun Simiao, meanwhile, continued his work in solitude, his mind focused on the next work.
By the age of 50, Sun Simiao had achieved what few could even dream of. He had written down and spread all of his discoveries and creations among the people, ensuring that his knowledge would endure long after he was gone. His works on potion-making and medicine were revolutionary, with some even accessible to non-magical individuals. Healers across the Tang Dynasty and beyond began to rise, their skills honed by the wisdom Sun Simiao had shared. His legacy was no longer confined to his own hands—it had become a gift to the world.
With his knowledge disseminated, Sun Simiao felt a sense of fulfillment but also a restless curiosity. He decided to leave the empire and explore the rest of the world. His journey took him westward through Asia, where he visited the Gupta Empire, the Lakhmid Kingdom, and the Sabaean and Himyarite Kingdoms. He then traveled to Africa, observing the Kingdom of Kush and parts of the Roman Empire. Everywhere he went, he studied the local cultures, their healing practices, and their magic, always seeking to learn more.
During his travels, Sun Simiao heard tales of a prophet named Jesus, whom people called the Son of the One True God. The stories of miracles and resurrection intrigued him, but he remained skeptical. He wondered if Jesus was simply another accomplished wizard, his deeds exaggerated over time. A part of Sun Simiao felt a pang of regret for not meeting someone who had left such a profound impact on the world. Yet, he continued his journey, his mind always focused on the mysteries of life and magic.
After nearly 50 years of travel, Sun Simiao arrived at the westernmost edge of the Roman Empire—a land called Britannia. This was the place where his first tomb resided and where his first life had begun. As he explored the land, he noted the changes that had taken place over the centuries. The Fish People he had created were now called Merpeople, and Chiron’s descendants were known as Centaurs. Sun Simiao felt a twinge of pity as he observed how wizards treated these races. He had played a role in their creation, intentional or not, and their current state didn’t sit well with him. But in the end, he chose to ignore it, focusing instead on his own path.
As Sun Simiao continued to explore Britannia, he came across an unexpected sight: three brothers walking together. The oldest held a wand, the middle brother clutched a stone, and the youngest had nothing. What shocked Sun Simiao the most was the youngest brother’s face—it bore an uncanny resemblance to Baldr, his son from a past life.
Sun Simiao watched the brothers for a moment, his mind racing. He decided to intervene. Using his magic, he created an invisibility cloak and turned it into a Horcrux. He then approached the youngest brother, his expression kind but enigmatic.
“I feel sorry for you,” Sun Simiao said, holding out the cloak. “Your brothers have their unique artifacts, but you have nothing. Take this invisibility cloak as a gift.”
The youngest brother, surprised but grateful, accepted the cloak. His elder brothers, however, laughed mockingly. “An invisibility cloak?” the oldest sneered. “It can’t compare to what we hold.”
Sun Simiao’s gaze hardened as he looked at the two older brothers. “This cloak was made by the same person who created your artifacts,” he said, then turned his focus to the youngest. “It will hide and protect you from death, young one. In many ways, it is more useful than what your brothers hold.”
The youngest brother smiled, thanking the old man for his generosity. The elder brothers, however, remained skeptical, dismissing Sun Simiao as a senile old man. What they didn’t know was that all three artifacts—the wand, the stone, and the cloak—were Horcruxes. The invisibility cloak, in particular, was designed to protect its owner, while the others were meant to change hands and absorb memories and emotions over time. The cloak was the safest and most useful of the three, a gift meant to safeguard the youngest brother.
Sun Simiao watched as the brothers went their separate ways, the youngest clutching his new cloak tightly. He felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing he had done what he could to protect the boy who reminded him so much of Baldr.
After his encounter with the Peverell brothers, Sun Simiao felt a deep longing to see Frigg one last time. His life was nearing its end, and he wanted to visit her before death claimed him once more. With a heavy heart, he made his way to the snowy region where her resting place lay. The snow had only grown thicker over the centuries, but Sun Simiao paid it no mind. He found the hidden entrance to the hall and stepped inside, his breath visible in the cold air.
Frigg’s ghostly form floated above the graves, her silver eyes staring into the distance. When she turned to look at him, her expression was as cold and distant as ever. “Again, you come here with another face,” she said, her voice echoing softly in the hall.
Sun Simiao didn’t mind her coldness. He sat at a distance, his gaze fixed on her as he began to speak. He told her about his work, his discoveries, and his plans for the future. He spoke of the potions he had created, the spells he had developed, and the knowledge he had shared with the world. But Frigg ignored him completely, her ghostly form unmoving and unresponsive.
After some time, Sun Simiao stood up and sighed. He felt a pang of regret and desire, but he knew there was nothing more he could do. As he turned to leave, he paused and said, “I didn’t open the mind’s eye to peek into the future again. And I spread your magic name. People are calling you a goddess now and worship your name.”
Frigg didn’t glance at him, her silence speaking volumes. Sun Simiao turned and walked away, his heart heavy with unspoken words. When he stepped outside, he clenched his chest tightly. He could feel it—death was coming for him once again. He closed the entrance to the grave, ensuring it would remain hidden, and disapparated, planning to die alone somewhere far away.
With that, another chapter in the life of the oldest wizard in the world came to an end. Sun Simiao’s journey had been long and filled with discoveries. He had lived many lives, each one shaping him in ways he could never have imagined. At the age of 101, as his body faded and his soul prepared for its next journey, he knew his story was far from over. Somewhere, in another time and place, a new life would begin, and the cycle would continue. In the farthest east, the world would remember Sun Simiao, the benevolent King of Medicine, while in some other areas will be remembered as potion master and in others poison master.
