Clone Ascension

In front of the grand, history‑soaked gates of Rovan Academy, FangBro leaned in and whispered,

“Big bro, just act natural. Rovan Academy is open to the public. As long as you don’t look suspicious, the guards won’t bother you.”

Evan watched for a while.

People flowed in and out—some clearly students, some older, probably teachers.

The two young security guards at the gate didn’t stop anyone.

“Let’s go,” Evan said.

They walked toward the entrance, one in front, one behind.

Just as they reached the gate, a guard suddenly shouted,

“Stop. Please show your ID.”

He was talking to FangBro.

Evan kept walking, expression calm, and stepped straight into the campus without anyone stopping him.

FangBro was furious.

He had just said the guards only watched for suspicious people, and then they stopped him.

He was a legitimate Rovan Academy student—

A senior who’d failed to graduate for over ten years.

Did he really look that suspicious?

He pulled out a student ID that hadn’t been used in years and slapped it into the guard’s hand.

The guard opened it, his expression turning odd.

“So it’s you. My apologies. Please go in.”

“You’ve heard my story?” FangBro asked suspiciously.

“Your face is full of stories,” the guard replied.

FangBro couldn’t really blow up at that.

He snatched back the ID and walked through the gate.

Evan and FangBro wandered the campus for half an hour.

Wherever they went, FangBro would automatically start explaining:

“This building is…”

“That plaza used to be…”

“That statue was built when…”

Evan barely listened.

Everything went in one ear and out the other.

Finally, FangBro lowered his voice.

“Big bro, just say it. What are we really here for?”

Evan didn’t hide it.

“Looking for someone.”

“Student or teacher?”

“Neither. Let me ask you this instead—if your academy wanted to hide someone, where would they put them?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

FangBro’s expression shifted.

“Who exactly are you looking for? If you don’t tell me that, I’ve got no clue where to start.”

Evan thought for a moment.

“A very powerful evolutionary science expert. Your dean, Amida, took her. She’s probably under soft detention.”

FangBro flinched.

This involved a Saint‑tier.

That was way above his comfort zone.

“You’re not planning to break her out, are you?”

“I’m not that capable,” Evan said. “I just want to see her. Talk to her.”

FangBro exhaled in relief.

If Evan had said he wanted to rescue her, he’d have backed out immediately.

He thought it over, then said,

“Finding one person in a campus this big isn’t easy. But we can start by eliminating places she definitely wouldn’t be.”

“First, all teaching buildings—cross them out.

Second, student dorms—too crowded, too many eyes.”

Evan nodded.

FangBro opened the academy’s internal map on his phone and started marking red X’s.

“Cafeterias—cross.

Commercial areas—cross.

“With Amida’s personality, he’ll want everything to look proper. To show ‘respect for talent,’ he’ll definitely arrange a comfortable living environment. So anywhere that’s noisy, cramped, or shabby is unlikely.

“These swimming pools, gyms, libraries, regular offices—cross them all.”

After this round of elimination, Evan noticed there actually wasn’t much left.

Faculty housing.

Various laboratories.

And Amida’s private office building.

FangBro stared at the map and kept trimming.

“Faculty housing is huge, and most units are occupied. Just like student dorms—too many people. We can rule out the older blocks. Only the newer buildings are possible.

“As for labs, public labs can be ruled out. But some professors have private labs—those are fully equipped for both research and living. Quite a few of those are still vacant. Those are prime suspects.

“And then there’s the dean’s office building. That one is very likely. Normally, only Amida and his two secretaries stay there for long. There’s plenty of unused space—enough to house several people.

“Problem is, that building is hard to investigate. We can’t get in at all. Even Amida’s secretaries are Butterfly‑tier.”

Evan listened, thoughtful.

“Faculty housing is easiest to check,” he said, “but I don’t think it’s likely.”

If Wendy Lewis and Yvonne Hart were together, Amida would need at least two Butterfly‑tier guards.

Stuffing that many people into a faculty apartment would be cramped and inconvenient.

Of course, it was possible Yvonne was being held separately.

But as FangBro had said, Amida was a smiling tiger—

A man who cared deeply about appearances.

He wouldn’t openly “imprison” Yvonne.

His goal wasn’t just to confine Wendy—

He wanted her to work for him, for Rovan.

Putting them in the dean’s building actually made perfect sense.

Amida himself was there.

No need for extra guards.

And when he was away, his two Butterfly‑tier secretaries were still on site.

“We start with the dean’s building and the private labs,” Evan said.

FangBro’s face paled.

“How are we supposed to ‘check’ the dean’s building?”

Evan already had a plan.

“It’s simple. People have to eat. Even a Saint‑tier doesn’t need food, but they rarely give up good meals. And even if he doesn’t eat, the academy will still send food.

“All we have to do is track how many meals are delivered there each day. Then we’ll know how many people are inside.”

FangBro’s eyes lit up.

“Big bro, you’re a genius.”

Evan said,

“We can split up. You watch the labs, I’ll watch the dean’s building—”

“No need to make it that complicated,” FangBro cut in with a grin. “I’ve been here for over ten years. Leave it to me.”

Right in front of Evan, he made a few calls.

Within minutes, he had a copy of the academy’s meal delivery records for the past half month.

“It’s just delivery logs, not classified intel,” he said.

Evan couldn’t help but sigh.

Having connections really did make things easier.

He’d picked the right guide.

They opened the digital records and immediately pulled up the dean’s building.

Meals for the dean’s building were prepared by top‑tier chefs hired by the academy—

Three meals a day, delivered on schedule.

For the past half month, the quantity had been stable.

No noticeable increase.

Breakfast was especially telling—

Three glasses of milk or soy milk, every day.

Clearly, three people.

So Wendy wasn’t in the dean’s building?

Evan turned to the lab delivery records.

This time, the comparison actually revealed something.