Three Guns Chasing Souls: Killing from Northeast to Hunan

My name is Liu Sanxiang. I was named Liu Sanxiang because I farted three times in a row when I was born. Later, others called me Liu Sanqiang - because I always need to make up for it when fighting Japanese enemies. In the winter of 1938, the Japanese burned down my village. My father collapsed in the yard and my mother died by the stove. I chased them out with my father's old firecracker, and killed three Japs with three shots. From then on, I became a sniper of the Anti-Japanese Alliance. I am a mean-mouthed person, full of slander and dirty jokes. The more pain I feel, the poorer I feel, and the sadder I become, the muddier I become. I miss my parents and scold the weather, I tell jokes when my heart aches. I have never said "I treat you as a brother" in my life, but when each brother dies, I carve a mark on the butt of my gun. Until I met a viper. The ace sniper of the Ghost Squadron, he shot to death the old Liu Tou who always complained about the coldness of his home, and killed Wang Xiaocao who always asked "Is it cold at your house or mine?" With one shot. In the end, even the only horse instructor I have ever served in my life fell under his gun. From the white mountains and black waters in the Northeast, to the green shazhang in North China, to the muddy ponds in Hunan. For seven years, I chased him for seven thousand miles alone. The comrades left one by one, the guns were replaced one after another, the bars on the butts were fully engraved, and half of the hair turned white. Everyone thought I was dead, and even the army marked me as a deserter. No one knows I'm still chasing. The night before the Japanese surrender. In the abandoned earth temple, the viper and I finally came face to face. There were only three bullets left in the gun. One shot for my father, one shot for my mother, and the last shot for myself. This is not some heroic epic. This is just a story about an Orion who spent seven years collecting a blood debt.