The Walking Succubus, The Furious Young Lady, 666 and Interactive Segment

"Ah, finally! It's done!"

Ye Cheng slurped up another mouthful of noodles from his bowl, chewing vigorously as he sorted through his thoughts and pondered how he’d go about licking the Guild President’s shoes later that night.

At this point, the young mistress’s side of things seemed settled, but the Guild President was probably fuming. A simple lick of the shoe’s surface likely wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her vengeful, twisted desires.

He’d probably have to lick the soles.

Luckily, there was a shoe-licking tutorial scheduled for the evening. He’d study up, do his best to… uh, satisfy the Guild President, and hopefully calm her down enough to spare his miserable life.

[Charm +1]

A small, inconspicuous notification popped up in front of Ye Cheng. He blinked—this was the first time the system had given him a visible alert. Previously, rewards were silently dumped into his stats panel, leaving him to dig through the numbers himself.

So… was this some kind of half-baked "golden finger" upgrade? But why did it always upgrade useless things? Couldn’t he get something actually helpful for once?

Ye Cheng remembered how protagonists in other novels always got overpowered systems—Licking Dog Systems, Tycoon Systems, or at the very least, a Cultivation System.

But him? It felt like he’d been born to a stepmother. "Thrilling Life," his ss. More like "Thrilling My ss."

One of these days, some immortal grandmaster dressed in all black, spouting poetry while riding a shabby cicada upstream through time, would show up and put him in his place.

For the first time in a while, Ye Cheng opened his stats panel to review his recent gains and current attributes.

[Name: Ye Cheng]

[Gender: Male]

[IQ: 8 (Wild Genius)]

[Charm: 8 (Deducted 1 point for bizarre behavior)]

[Physique: 8 (Basically a Superhuman)]

[Physical Condition: Photographic Memory, Lightning Speed, Mid-Stage Cancer, Supreme Muscle Definition!]

Compared to before, not much had changed—just a slight adjustment to his Charm stat. Originally, his Charm had been at 8, but his unhinged antics had docked him a point. Now, it was back.

If Ye Cheng could just stop acting like a lunatic, his Charm would theoretically sit at 9, inching toward the human limit of 10—though, in reality, no one in the world could actually reach that peak.

The lower a stat was, the easier it was to improve. For example, the young mistress’s Physique was a measly 4, weaker than the average person, so boosting it to normal levels only took about a month.

But don’t underestimate a single point of growth. In a way, all stats were incredibly hard to change—especially something like IQ.

Maybe only the pioneers of physics or that wild-haired genius who stuck his tongue out in photos could claim an IQ of 9, edging toward 9.5.

But 10? That was more of an abstract ideal—like reaching for the sky, only for the sky to stretch higher the moment you thought you’d touched it.

If that extra point had gone to IQ instead of Charm, Ye Cheng’s 9-point intellect would’ve probably landed him on a dissection table under government orders.

Thanks to his Supreme Muscle Definition, Ye Cheng had already been on the verge of breaking past 9, like a bottle just shy of overflowing.

Now, with this additional point, his Charm was this close to 10. Even with his weird behavior dragging it down, he was still hovering near 9. And if he just shut up for once? Full send—practically 10!

If all that went over your head, no worries. Just know one thing: Terrifying.

Ye Cheng was now a walking, talking incubus. Forget women—even men would take one look at him and mutter, "This guy… even I’d have to step back."

Getting a man to admit another man is handsome is near impossible—unless the guy is so undeniably good-looking that denial is pointless. Only then might you hear a grudging, "Alright, fine, he’s kinda good-looking."

So, for now, Ye Cheng had to stay unhinged. The moment he acted too normal, his incubus aura would activate, triggering the women around him to spiral into full-blown Mary Sue fantasies.

The most obvious victim was his little secretary. The poor girl wasn’t the sharpest to begin with, and now, after seeing things she shouldn’t have and getting hit with Ye Cheng’s charm? Resistance? What resistance?

Now, the secretary couldn’t even walk straight when Ye Cheng was around.

And it wasn’t just her—even the young mistress in front of him was starting to notice something was off.

Shen Qinghan frowned when Ye Cheng failed to answer her question. She shot him a glare, ready to snap at him, but the words died in her throat.

What the hell is up with him?

First, he’d inexplicably gotten way paler. And now… what is this…?

Narrowing her eyes, Shen Qinghan’s expression turned serious. Then, without warning, she smacked her palm against Ye Cheng’s face.

Ye Cheng: "…"

Really, Young Mistress? I zoned out for one second, and you’re slapping me?

You’re breaking my heart here.

But Shen Qinghan wasn’t hitting him—she was inspecting something. After the initial smack, she didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she started prodding, pinching, and eventually straight-up peeling at his face like she was trying to rip off a mask.

Ye Cheng: "…"

"Young Mistress, what are you—" Ye Cheng slurped down the last of his noodles and swallowed.

"Shut up." Shen Qinghan scowled, cutting him off as she continued her very thorough examination. One hand wasn’t enough—soon, she was using both, tugging at his nose, eyes, mouth, cheeks…

Ye Cheng: "…"

Is this her way of getting back at me for earlier?

Whatever. Let her poke. It’s not like I’ll lose any meat. Back to eating…

Ye Cheng picked up his bowl—bigger than his face—and started gulping down the broth, completely unbothered as Shen Qinghan manhandled his face. By the time he finished, he was leaning back, rubbing his full stomach, while she was still studying him.

"Young Mistress, is there something on my face?" Ye Cheng pulled out a small mirror from his pocket—some freebie from a flyer distributor for a certain men’s health clinic—and checked.

Nope. Nothing.

So why was she—

Ohhh.

Ye Cheng’s expression twisted into something downright wicked as he raised an eyebrow.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Young Mistress, I thought we were bros. But here you are, lusting after me. You’re really—OW!"

SMACK!

"Ah, I was wrong, young mistress! I was just joking, messing around with you—ah, stop hitting me, stop! Boss, save me, ahhh...!"

Normally, when Ye Cheng said things like this, Shen Qinghan would just scoff and give him a look like he was an idiot. But this time, it was as if someone had stepped on a cat's tail—she completely lost it...

So puzzling—why did she snap like that?

Do you know, dear readers?