The Storm King - Chapter 1156: Forcing the Hand

Condition 1: One yellow scarf soldier rune is satisfied

Condition 2: Kill 100 rune monsters independently

Condition 3: 5,000 times of training to kill a pig with a knife is satisfied

Condition 4: 10 Spirit Talisman Pills are satisfied

Rune unlock upgrade.

Your source runes have been promoted from ordinary quality [Yellow Turban Soldiers] to premium quality [Yellow Turban Warriors]!

- Description from novelbuddy

He Lang died by his own hands for the sake of his imperial younger brother’s ambition, whom he loved. He was offered to be reborn in exchange for giving up his past romantic feelings. Reborn without the burden of his romantic feelings, he brings with him a manual to new worlds. He wholeheartedly followed the instructions of the manual to complete the tasks, not knowing that the originally slag gong was blackening…
He pleaded to his affectionate Emperor brother to release him, he pleaded to the paranoid prisoner next door, but until the end he remained baffled.
In the end, he discovered that the full name of the manual was – “Slag Shou Cultivating Manual”
Σ (っ ° ° °;) っ!

- Description from Novelupdates

Cole is a novel author.

He enjoys writing novels and even reading other's works as well.

But that's just it.

Reading and writing novels.

Those are the only things Cole enjoyed in his whole life.

And as the time goes by, even doing those are becoming boring for him.

But then one day, Cole recieved a mail!

The mail said that his work has been chosen!

In a contest? No.

Cole's novel was chosen by a Higher Being to make it a reality!

“What kind of bullshit is this?”

“Whoever sent this must have few loose screws in their head.”

Though, Cole didn't took the mail seriously.

“Huh?”

That is until he was sent in to his own novel!

Cole became Raven Obadiah of his novel!

Who is Raven Obadiah?

No Idea! He's just an Extra in the novel!

...Or is he really just an Extra?

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.