Chelsea’s business planning and human resource practices may confound all but their blue-sky thinkers, but that does not preclude them providing great entertainment. Here was a red-letter day for the laptop gurus who have constructed their squad.

Amid that stockpiling of 191 years of contracts across 42 players, genuine, high-class talent abounds. Cole Palmer, with a goal and three assists, a key role in all six goals, grabbed by the scruff of its neck a game that had threatened to get away from Chelsea in the first half.

In the second half, with four unanswered goals, Wolves were cut to ribbons, Chelsea attackers visibly enjoying themselves as they feasted on an opposition side who look a far lesser proposition than last season.

Noni Madueke was booed from his first kick for his late-night Instagram travel guide to Wolverhampton – “Every thing about this place is shit” – and responded with a 14-minute hat-trick, each laid on by Palmer, playmaker supreme. In celebrating his third, Madueke hailed Palmer. “He is cold and I am fire, so it mixes well,” the hat-trick hero said. “He has the ability to always play a pass at the right time.”

There was time for diplomacy, too, for the burghers of Wolverhampton. “I’m sure Wolverhampton is a lovely town, I’m sorry,” he said. For this day at least, Chelsea could celebrate being a living, breathing football team rather than the trading platform they are derided as, their new manager delighted by his side’s play.

Enzo Maresca’s team selection had fitted rather comfortably with the policies of Chelsea’s BlueCo ownership. With Raheem Sterling in exile, Mykhailo Mudryk, a winger of far less consistency, started but was then a victim of the ruthlessness for which the Italian is developing a reputation. Pedro Neto, Wolves’ star man when fit last season, sat on the Chelsea bench until half‑time, when he replaced Mudryk.

“On the ball I expect a bit more quality from Misha,” Maresca said. His half‑time words? “In a delicate way, I said we needed to be more accurate.”

The concurrent Nicolas Jackson project – making a sellable player out of the rawest of materials – looks in decent development. After his early goal, following Palmer’s corner and an inadvertent flick from Matheus Cunha, the striker also assisted Palmer’s goal.

Will Gary O’Neil come to rue the sale of Neto and Maximilian Kilman, his former defensive leader? Almost certainly. The signs of a second-half collapse were not promising. There was plenty of attacking quality in the first half but nothing like a watertight defence. They began with real zest as Yerson Mosquera, the Colombian replacing Kilman and making his home debut, flashed a highly sinkable header wide.

“I knew it wouldn’t be easy and today showed just how difficult it would be,” O’Neil said. “Everyone knows the financial restrictions we’ve been under since I arrived … selling good players makes you weaker.”

Cunha seemed to have completed a glorious end-to-end move when slotting in Jørgen Strand’s Larsen pass, only for offside to flag. VAR, the great Satan of Molineux, showed that decision to be correct. With Palmer scuffing a shot, Madueke forcing a save from José Sá, and the Wolves winger Jean-Ricner Bellegarde stumbling in reaching for a cross, the action appeared relentless, neither midfield providing any sort of protection. When the opposition is bearing down on them, Enzo Fernández and Moisés Caicedo continue to look like a midfield odd couple. For Wolves, Mario Lemina was outstanding when making forward runs and zinging passes but struggled to curb opposing attacks.

A case in point of that first-half pandemonium, Wolves’ first goal: Rayan Aït-Nouri skating through Chelsea’s underbelly once Caicedo had lost the ball to set up Cunha. No flag this time, although Rob Jones, the referee, had to intervene when Jackson and Cunha had an altercation as the restart began.

Wolves and O’Neil smelled blood and looked for a swift second. And yet Chelsea went back ahead, their route-one goal tinged with class. Robert Sánchez, their goalkeeper, launched the ball to Jackson, whose flick was lobbed by Palmer over a despairing Sá, Chelsea’s star man finishing – and celebrating – with customary iciness. “That goal was mad,” O’Neil said. Aït-Nouri’s free-kick, Bellegarde’s flick and Strand Larsen’s volley for a home-debut strike left it all square after 45 minutes-plus of high-octane chaos.

Neto’s arrival brought warm applause from most Wolves fans, though the occasional boo greeted his involvement. It was on the opposite wing where the true damage was wreaked. Three times Palmer played in Madueke to shoot past Sá, unlucky with a deflection for the first, poor for the second, unprotected for the third.

Madueke made sure to stage his celebrations in front of the Chelsea fans. Aït-Nouri, exposed by each of those goals, was subbed off. “We had no left-back in place,” O’Neil said pointedly. Insult was added to injury when Lemina thrashed in a volley, only for VAR, the practice the Wolves hierarchy moved to ban in May, to rule it out. Tempers were fraying; Caicedo had already left the field after a crunching tackle from Mosquera.

For Wolves, deeper pain followed as Neto suppled his first assist for his new employers. Jõao Félix, his return another Chelsea head-scratcher, slotted in the last goal of a rout few saw coming but the victors’ decision‑makers will have richly enjoyed.