Sure, here is the translation:

Option 3: The most valuable plan — use 24 minutes to infiltrate human groups, understand and observe, learn or interact with people, grasp the general knowledge of human life, highly recommended.

Clap...clap...clap...

The three options shattered in an instant, and Iman gently shook her head. She had her own consciousness and didn't need to rely on system recommendations at all times. But to be honest, the system's advice was merely an offshoot of her own consciousness. Ultimately, Iman decided to use the 24-minute timeframe to observe humans within an 800-meter radius. After all, she used to operate only as a robot and knew far too little about the class divisions within human society; there were many things she needed to learn. Fortunately, with Iman's social experience, she could disguise herself well enough not to be noticed.

With a blank expression, she blinked and then took lotus strides towards the area where people gathered. She had not gone far before she suddenly noticed a noisy commotion ahead that piqued her curiosity.

A moment later, as she approached to observe, Iman realized that a fight — no, rather than a fight, it was a one-sided assault by a human on a robot — was happening here. A man, who seemed to be a drunkard, was viciously kicking a fallen intelligent robot on the ground.

The robot on the ground could only defend itself while desperately pleading. Although the robot's body couldn't feel pain through the nervous system, it still exhibited fear in response to the human's heavy-handedness.

A crowd surrounded them, pointing and whispering. Some men and women with vicious expressions kept shouting, hoping the drunkard would kill the intelligent robot as quickly as possible, as if the fallen robot had offended many passersby.

"Sir, may I ask what is happening here?" Iman inquired, looking at a kind elder standing beside her.

The old man turned his head to look at Iman, and with a benevolent smile, he casually said, "Obviously, look, young lady, at how sad this scene is. The pitiful sight of the intelligent robot pleading and struggling really makes me nauseous. Don't you think so too?"

Iman withdrew her gaze, showing no agreement or disagreement. Of course, Iman didn't continue questioning why humans would occasionally target an intelligent robot, as they seemed indifferent to the reasons behind the beatings.

"Sir, please don't do this, let me go, I haven't hurt you." The robot that was desperately pleading for mercy had the handsome face of a successful man, but it now looked extremely miserable due to the man's assault.

"Damn it, bastard!" The drunkard took a swig of alcohol, gasping as he kicked and roared at the robot, "It's because of you that my woman lost interest, damn it. Why did I say that? Do you understand? I also lost my job. Look at the people around; if there's anyone who says something good about you, I'll stop — come on, friends, what are your answers?" The drunkard spread his arms and shouted to the onlookers nearby.

"Kill it."

The man's response was a torrent of curse words.

Only a few, like Iman, remained silent.

The sound of police sirens echoed around them, and within moments, two law enforcement officers entered the crowd. Seeing the intelligent robot on the ground and the still-assaulting drunkard, one officer stepped forward to pull the drunkard away, saying, "Sir, please stay rational."

"Get out of my way, let me kill it, even if it's just one more kick. You know why."

The police seemed accustomed to such incidents. "Alright, that's enough." One officer dissuaded the drunkard, and the other gestured for the crowd to disperse, indicating there was nothing exciting to see here.

The drunkard angrily shook off the officer, warning them with a pointed finger, "Believe me, this is just the beginning. One day, your family and children will also be replaced by them, maybe even you yourself!"

Perhaps, the officer leisurely shrugged, seemingly not much angered, because what the drunkard said was not without reason. This was a recognized fact. It could be said that many intelligent robots had already replaced human roles. However, as a police officer, one must act impartially.

Bang!

The staggering drunkard accidentally bumped into Iman's shoulder, which caused her to stumble, but the drunkard only uttered, "Sorry, miss," before walking away without looking back...

"Hey, can you stand up?" The officer addressed the robot on the ground, evidently without any intention of offering a helping hand.

"I can, sir, thank you." The robot struggled but eventually stood up. Timidly rising, it soon fled, sparking a wave of whistles and sighs...

The two officers exchanged a glance, shook their heads at each other, and brushed past Iman, disappearing into the crowd.

Intelligent robots had only been around for a little over three years, yet it seemed that human rejection of them had reached a certain level, leaving Iman lost in thought.

Evidently, these were not matters Iman should focus on, as her power couldn't change anything. A few minutes later, for the first time, the densely populated square became quiet, marking the commencement of the monthly registration phase for martial arts guidance qualifications, lasting one hour. Those intending to register were required to submit their identity and related information within that period.

When it was Iman's turn, the staff couldn't help but give her a once-over. A resident of the Zana Republic was applying for a qualification in the Federation? It was rather rare, probably only one in a hundred, and to make it even more unusual, this delicate-looking girl was applying for the comprehensive category of combat guidance.

The significance of the comprehensive category of combat guidance was known. It was a field only accessible to combat experts. No matter how one looked at it, the staff found it difficult to associate Iman with combat guidance.

The number of people applying for combat guidance categories was very small, only dozens in total, and this category was the most general and vague, encompassing a wide scope. Thus, it required numerous combat knowledge techniques and even correct on-spot adaptability that ordinary people did not possess.

Who would have thought, after half an hour of testing, Iman actually succeeded...

Along with her, three other men passed, while all other applicants were eliminated without exception. Iman became the only female in the first round of the theoretical test, and a beautiful one, inevitably attracting countless attention.

However, in this vast square, no one would really care about Iman. Because of the large variety of categories, only hundreds out of possibly thousands passed the tests. The reason people gathered so massively was partly due to the positive prospects of this industry, partly out of genuine enthusiasm and encouragement, but most importantly, the chance to personally witness Iserin, the Phantom Mentor.

As a combat mentor, it could be said that at least within the scope of the Federation, a combat mentor would personally present at each bidding event held on the Capital Planet. It was known that the person appearing in the Western Square this month was none other than the renowned Phantom Mentor, Iserin.

If you simply thought Iserin was merely a beautiful woman, you would be gravely mistaken. Only those with First-Order combat abilities were qualified to enjoy the title of mentor. It was said that Iserin, with her First-Order prowess, was not only a pretty woman but also kind and approachable. However, she was particularly serious when it came to combat guidance, especially with the Holy Spirit Wings attached to her back that radiated a sense of divine beauty.

Yes, Iserin could fly. Although there was a bit of a publicity element to it, even Iserin herself might find it embarrassing. But having mastered the Blank Paper Realm, she could indeed soar through the sky, thus earning another unique nickname, the Immortal Trace Elf, particularly when wielding the knight's spear in her hand with undeniable flair and grace.

Iserin's life credo is, 'I will do my utmost to help the martial artists who have just stepped into the New Era.'

Her mere appearance triggered a chorus of cheers and applause from thousands present at the scene...

It was so cool; people could actually witness Catherine, this great, so-called phantom mentor, First-Order Martial Artist Iserin, in person. Martial art enthusiasts were instantly thrown into a frenzy.

The only person whose mind could possibly remain calm was Hans. He was waiting for the arrival of the Revenge Shadow Rider. Three years! Three years! A whole three years he had waited. No one knew how Hans had lived through those three years.

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