Frozen Milk was overjoyed, he was more than overjoyed. He finally made it to the neutral island.

After many trials and errors, especially trying to avoid the villain, accidentally knocking out a person and accidentally putting on their clothes as to not raise suspicions, and blackmailing the captain of the airship to get him to the island, Frozen Milk must admit, he was quite proud of himself.

Being an author came in pretty handy. He knew the hideout spots, the little dirty secrets of the characters, the locations, he was basically a walking map. No, a walking cheat sheet!

This knowledge made him feel even better. Now, he didn't even curse the fact he transmigrated into his own story. Actually, he pretty much enjoyed the change of pace and scenery, and his own story coming to life.

After all, he was still an author and no matter how twisted he became, he still dearly loved his works and writing. Like every writer, he was quite attached to his characters and world.

When he came to terms with his transmigration, a sly thought crept into his mind: This was actually a blessing for him.

Yet, of course, things couldn't go the way he wanted. Since he transmigrated as a punishment, he had to suffer enough for the poor, anguish souls of his mistreated readers to be cleansed of their blackened hearts. Only when they turned into white lotuses again, could Frozen Milk be freed from this hellish torture.

However, Frozen Milk wasn't aware of everything that was going on 'behind-the-scenes' and happily hummed as he went on a search for the Temple to complete his goal: to become a monk!

He was fine with living as a forever cherry boy, in fact, all the beauties in his story were reserved for the protagonist and he had no intention at all to interfere with the protagonist nor the antagonist. Nor did he want to meddle with the main story. Quietly living his life, quietly enjoying the food, the landscape and the badass fighting skills he'd acquire.

"Hehe," Frozen Milk didn't realise the continuous evil chuckles he let out. To the surrounding people, he looked like a ball of black, rotten smoke, as black and rotten his heart was.

"Young man!" an enthusiastic merchant approached Frozen Milk ready to milk this frozen bastard to the tip of his virginity.

Right now, Frozen Milk walked along the busy main street. Various stalls, restaurants and attractions lined up. People from both the water and nature sides, as well as the neutral ones, buzzed around. There was no rivalry, no fights and no conflicts. However, they all soon had to brace themselves.

Frozen Milk was about to wreak havoc upon this peaceful island.

"My good man," Frozen Milk patted the shoulder of the sleazy merchant.

Together they looked like a pair of lackey trouble makers that would even be defeated by a cannon fodder.

They were the tank fodders of fodders, putting all existing and RIP cannon fodders to shame.

You dare call yourself a cannon fodder? Watch us, we're lower than the depths of hell for us can reach!

"Let me tell you," Frozen Milk continued to rub the merchant's shoulder.

The merchant smiled throughout the whole interaction but slowly the all-familiar murderous aura surrounded Frozen Milk, but he was too enamoured in his superiority complex of an author, he couldn't detect the snake-like feeling.

"There's no way, absolutely no way, you small dim-wit fry of a character could squeeze me dry. Don't even try."

"Dear, dear customer. Don't say this. Look at all these beautiful wares."

Frozen Milk was so sure of himself not to be fooled, he graciously allowed the merchant to show him around. He felt bad for this character, so he thought he'd do him the favour of humouring him.

Since Frozen Milk had the oh-so omnipotent knowledge of an author, he immediately knew that all those wares were fake.

The merchant brought Frozen Milk inside his small store and showed him around.

"Dear, dear customer. Look at all those great quality golden plates. They're perfect for such an esteemed individual as yourself," the merchant kissed ass like there was no tomorrow.

His job was basically to eat ass to support himself and his family of three. So, he was willing to seduce any ass there was and gulp it down his throat smoothly. No lube needed.

Indeed, it worked.

Frozen Milk actually started to fall for it, "Good, good. You have my attention, go on."

The merchant was after all a professional, he could immediately see with only one glance how to stroke this magnificent ego of Frozen Milk's. It was nothing for him.

"Dear, dear godly customer. The moment I laid my eyes on you I instantly knew this is perfect for you."

The merchant pointed to a fully golden toilet bowl. It was indeed perfect for Frozen Milk.

What the merchant thought while marketing this toilet was that Frozen Milk looked like a walking pile of poop. It was too much of public harassment to let this poop walk alone, so the solution was the pile of poop should carry its own death sentence around, ready to be flushed anywhere at any time.

Oh, and of course because this fake golden toilet was the most expensive item of them all.

The merchant was proud of himself and his own ego skyrocketed 30 times than that of Frozen Milk's.

"Dear heavenly sent customer. The heavens must've graced this world with your presence."

Indeed, Frozen Milk was the author, so he basically was like a God in heaven.

"Hm, go on. Go on."

"This toilet can only befit those that know their true value, and frankly this toilet has a secret."

The merchant whispered in Frozen Milk's ear: "It chooses its owner like a sword would choose its Master."

"Like Excalibur, I see."

"Excali- what?"

Of course, this world had no clue about the lore and tales of his own but Frozen Milk brushed it aside.

"Exactly, my lord," the bullshit grew and spread in all corners of the store, "This toilet is really special, only those that have the right can tame and use it. Not even kings and queens who frequently visit my store were chosen by the toilet."

The merchant sat on the toilet but the next second flung himself in the air in a way that looked like the toilet catapulted him to show he was not worthy.

What true acting skills and dedication to fling themselves like this away. Not even the Oscars could deny what a contestant he was.

"What a fierce toilet!" Frozen Milk's interest was piqued. He literally ate the bullshit out of the merchant's hand. Poop eating poop. It was cannibalism in front of everyone's eyes.

What was that about the superior knowledge he as an author had? Not to be swindled by the likes of a crawling ant-like cannon fodder?

Gone. Gone with the wind. Smelly like a fart with all the diarrhoea that kept polluting the room.