A Name Etched in Stome

The wind howled like a vengeful spirit through the desolate training grounds of the Cloud Piercing Sect. Dust devils danced across the cracked stone courtyard, whipping around a lone figure standing motionless amidst the chaos.

His name was Wei Shirong, and even the wind seemed hesitant to disturb him. His face, a youthful mask of unyielding granite, betrayed no emotion. Not a single strand of his raven hair dared to stir. He stood as still and imposing as the ancient, moss-covered statue of the sect's founder behind him.

Wei Shirong wasn't practicing any intricate forms or cultivating profound Qi techniques like the other disciples. He simply stood, his gaze fixed on a weathered stone tablet half-buried in the ground. Etched into its surface were the faded characters of the sect's most basic breathing technique: The Stone Heart Sutra.

Most disciples mastered the Sutra within weeks, some even days. Wei Shirong, however, had been staring at it for months. Years, even. Three years, to be precise.

Three years ago, he had been found unconscious at the foot of the mountain, a nameless orphan with no memory of his past. The sect elders, moved by a rare surge of pity, had taken him in.

They soon regretted their decision.

Wei Shirong was an enigma. He showed no gratitude, no fear, no joy, no sorrow. He interacted with the world through a lens of icy indifference, his expression never changing, his words always curt and devoid of inflection.

He was a blank slate upon which others projected their own frustrations.

"Hopeless," Elder Zhou had declared, shaking his head in disappointment. "The boy is a void. He feels nothing, desires nothing. He'll never grasp the Way."

But Wei Shirong did desire something. Or rather, something desired him.

As he stared at the Stone Heart Sutra, a faint blue glow emanated from his chest, invisible to the naked eye. It flickered like a dying ember, pulsing weakly beneath his worn robes.

Unbeknownst to him, this faint glow held the key to a power beyond anything the Murim world had ever seen. It was the spark of the "EX" system, awakening within him like a dragon stirring from its slumber.

**[EX System Activated]**

The words materialized in front of his eyes, crisp and clear against the backdrop of the ancient stone tablet.

For the first time in three years, a flicker of something akin to curiosity touched Wei Shirong's stoic features. He didn't understand what he was seeing, but he instinctively knew that it was important.

His gaze fell upon the next line of glowing text:

**[Welcome, User. Do you wish to begin your journey?]**

A single word escaped his lips, spoken without a trace of emotion, yet echoing with the weight of untold potential:

"Yes."